Stay
by Eliot Rose
Summary: A story about the destiny of love and just how it can change the course of a life. Fenris never expected to find a reason to stay anywhere, but a chance meeting in the Elven Alienage when trying to run from his former master introduced him to a world of friends, freedom and of love.
1. Chapter 1

_There was no word_

_For heaven or for earth, for sea or for sky._

_All that existed was silence._

_Then the Voice of the Maker rang out,_

_The first Word,_

_And His Word became all that might be:_

_Dream and idea, hope and fear,_

_Endless possibilities._

_And from it made his firstborn._

_And he said to them:_

_In My image I forge you,_

_To you, I give dominion_

_Over all that exists._

_By your will_

_May all things be done._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The dwarf Anso's nervousness was almost infuriating. The Lowtown Bazaar was not known to be safe at night, but why anyone would feel frightened in front of this group, Selden Hawke could not understand. Aside from himself; dressed in a ebony colored long coat, a belt of daggers over a red sash and his staff at his back, the raven haired Fereldan had a guardswoman with a Templar shield and sword, a heavily armored man carrying a two-handed hammer who looked quite a lot like him and a dangerously sarcastic dwarf at his side. There were not many bandits who would readily attack such a group. Still, Selden looked upwards at the tops of the buildings, looking for any sign of movement while the dwarf stumbled on about his investment in some sort of something. Hawke felt something off about the whole thing, but his dwarven companion _insisted_ it would be worth its weight in sovereigns if they helped the bumbling idiot out. Selden did not like needing to stoop so low for money, but he hardly had a choice since discovering that his uncle had lost their entire family's riches to a bad bet.

"Anso." Varric's voice sounded friendly and kind, but Selden could hear the annoyance in his new acquaintance's tone. The dwarf reached out to touch his kinsman's shoulder. "_Tell us where_ we need to go and we'll go get your goods, alright? I promise we'll be back."

Anso nodded nervously, wringing his hands together. "The alienage. Where the elves are. There's an abandoned house, behind the tree. That big one…the tree that is." He sighed shakily. "Are you sure those are not going to fall on me?" The dwarf pointed to the sky, causing everyone except for Varric to look up.

"Is that truly what you're so concerned about?" Aveline asked, adjusting her shield on her shoulder. The ginger haired woman looked genuinely saddened by Anso, who nodded quickly.

"He's new to the surface, poor blighter." Varric said, patting the dwarf on the shoulder before turning to the group. "So, shall we pay the Elves a visit?"

Hawke drew a breath and nodded, turning towards the stairs that would take them to the Alienage. Anso scurried into a building behind one of the shops, muttering about falling skies. "You sure he really needs our help, Varric? He seemed a bit…"

"He sounded like he was lying." Carver Hawke spoke up behind them, causing Varric to snort loudly. Selden gestured to his younger brother with a nod.

"Of course he was, Little Hawke." Carver groaned at the nickname and looked over at his brother with a deep frown.

"What? You're the one pressuring us to get the gold, little brother." Selden said, shrugging one shoulder. Carver was adamant about getting the money for Bartrand as quickly as possible; he was more afraid of the Templars than Selden was, certainly, and he wasn't even a mage! Selden took the lead towards the Alienage with Aveline at his side. Carver and Varric followed along behind, arguing about the other Hawke's distaste for the nickname.

"How do you put up with it?" Aveline asked quietly. The Fereldan woman had become one of Selden's closest friends since escaping the Blight to Kirkwall. Though she had once been married to a Templar, she was hardly an extremist. Selden wasn't a typical apostate, anyways; he shouldered the burden of being a mage silently and did his best with it. He had enjoyed his magic tricks as a child, but now he wished them away more than anything, they brought too much danger to his family. With a strong distaste for blood magic and his fellow magic users that corrupted the reputation of the "good ones;" Selden did not agree with many of his counterparts and their extreme views. He agreed with the idea of the Circle, though he was certain it was a broken system in Kirkwall if not everywhere in the Free Marches. Truly, he preferred to fight on equal playing ground with everyone. He had crafted a staff with an axe-like attachment attachment at the end so he could better fight without the use of magic, if necessary. "Carver, I mean. He seems quite disturbed by…well, by just about everything." Aveline said.

Chuckling slightly, Selden looked over his shoulder at his brother and shrugged. "He's always been that way. He had to deal with three mages and my mother throughout his life; he thinks we cast a shadow he can't stand up to. It's gotten worse since Bethany, though."

"He made an attempt to join the guard, you know." Aveline said, lowering her voice even more.

Selden scratched at his budding beard, then ran his hand through his hair, a motion he made when he was thinking. "And you did not recommend him?"

"How you read me, I'll never know." The guard chuckled before falling serious again. "He is far too extreme, Hawke. I'd say he'd be a great fit for the Templars if it would not put you and Anders in danger."

The thought of the blonde healer made Selden frown. Anders and the Templars would be a _bad _mix. "And we both know what would happen if…"

Whatever he had meant to say faded from his mouth though, as they came down the stairs into the Alienage. There was no one around, not even the usual beggars near the sewer entrance. Raising a hand to call for silence, Selden took the final step off the stairs and slowly pulled his staff from his back. He could see the house they were headed for, though there were odd shadows flickering against the door, coming from a fire on the other side of the large tree in the middle of the courtyard. The movement was humanoid in nature, though Hawke could make out the shape of a quiver in the shadows.

It took him only a moment to pull a spell to his hands, his fingers spreading out wide as he drew a mental circle in the direction of the shadow figures. This spell came without much decoration and with a sudden shout, the limp bodies of their would-be-ambushers flew out wide around the tree. Aveline shouted to attack and Selden could hear Varric hurriedly loading Bianca behind him. Carver ran passed him so closely that Selden felt the head of his hammer brush his tailcoat.

The next spell came to him quickly, the magic jumping to his fingers instead of his staff. Bluish purple energy coiled to his finger tips and he threw his hands forward to push aside a line of archers in front of Carver. His brother shouted in annoyance at the assistance, but Selden didn't have a moment to respond with his normal cheeky response. Varric needed help behind him. Swinging the blade side outwards in a dangerous arc, he felt the weapon connect with a body. Hawke turned on his heel, pushing his staff back into the leather armor.

Met with the grimacing face of a woman, her anger obvious, Selden shot electricity down his weapon into her body. The smell of burning hair and flesh assaulted his nose, but he kept the weapon still as she trembled to death in his spell. With a sudden movement, he ripped the blade from her body, ignoring the blood splattering against his cheek; up-close battle was how he preferred to fight. Varric had taken down his assailants with a cleverly placed crossbow bolt or two and Selden turned to his brother and Aveline to see them trying to pull the pointy-end of the woman's shield from a fighter's breastplate. Smirking, Selden and Varric watched the shield come loose, throwing the two off their feet. The four made a good team, really; Varric and Hawke stayed back while Aveline and Carver ran in to battle.

"Where're we putting the bodies, brother?" Carver asked, kicking a dead assassin at his feet. "Down the sewers?"

"Anders'll kill us, but we're not leaving them here." The blonde healer hated when he found bodies in his Darktown tunnels, but Hawke couldn't figure out where to put them and he wasn't going to leave them out in the courtyard for the Elves to deal with. Once Varric was done picking the bodies for goods, the group tossed them over the edge into the sewer drains below.

"I hate doing that." Aveline said when she pushed the last of the mercenaries over the edge.

"Just remember, Aveline, they're baddies, okay?" Varric said cheerfully, kicking his boots along the ground to get blood off of them. He dragged his feet the entire way towards the "abandoned house" Anso had directed them to. Hawke followed next, brushing some dirt off of his hands and pulling his armored glove back on.

The abandoned house seemed to be empty upon approaching it. Selden looked into the dirty window, not seeing anything inside. He waved a hand at Carver and the other man kicked the door in. As soon as the wood hit the wall, a trap was triggered. Darts exploded from a wall, one or two lodged into Carver's arm and the far door opened quickly to permit a few more mercenaries into the room. Hawke stepped away from the building to allow Aveline and Carver to charge inside. Varric stayed in the doorway, launching bolts left and right. Hawke decided against engaging in such a small space; he'd just end up hurting Carver or Aveline. Instead, he turned and looked out into the courtyard. He spotted a few curious eyes peering out from behind drawn curtains and he felt a frown pull at his lips. He disliked killing at all and certainly not someone who liked to do so openly. The Elves in the Alienage were suffering a similar plight that most mages did in Thedas; they were second class citizens, controlled and belittled because of something they could not control.

Selden was looking across the Alienage when he spotted movement; a flash of white and glowing blue. He spun his staff behind him, readying a spell. The alleyway leading up into the rest of Lowtown was blocked by a corner, but he could definitely see _something_. There was no way to hear over the fighting behind him, but he thought he heard screaming…

"Hawke." Varric was at his side, tugging on his unarmored arm. "There's nothing in the damned chest!"

"I told you he was lying." Carver said triumphantly, coming in from another room with a flimsy blue chest in his hands. He dropped it on top of the body of a fighter and shook his head. He also nonchalantly began to pull darts out of his arm.

"Those are probably poisoned, Carver." Aveline approached him, a motherly look on her face as she took some bandages out of her pack to wrap him up.

Selden looked away from them out into the courtyard again, pursing his lips. "There's something out there." Varric stepped from the building curiously, looking around.

"You're seeing things in the dark, mage. Sure you're not possessed?" The dwarf joked, only laughing harder when Selden pushed him playfully aside.

"I'm certain." Selden kept his staff out as he walked slowly forward, glancing towards the stairs. He was only a few feet out before a group of men came around the trunk of the large tree, each of them looking more confused than the other.

"He's not the Elf!"

"Who cares!"

"But we're supposed to capture an Elf!"

Selden looked at them all with an arched brow, gripping his staff tighter.

"We're supposed to kill whoever comes out of that house!"

"Kill or capture?"

"Maker, what's the diff-"

One of Bianca's bolts seemed to appear from the forehead of one of the men, which was Selden's cue to very quickly throw a bolt of flames from his staff. Another mage stepped back from the group and made himself a target by beginning a spell. Hawke moved backwards on his heels quickly, casting a spell at the man to interrupt the swirling red magic around him. _Blood magic._ Scowling deeply, Selden moved to the offensive, blasting the disoriented mage with rounds of spiritual energy, stopping him from focusing on casting. Pursuing him around the group of other fighters, Selden attacked suddenly, swinging his axe-like-blade at the face of the other mage.

The man's scream turned into a gargle once Selden was finished with him and the face of his Fereldan killer was the last thing he saw. Hawke spun around to push away another round of attackers, allowing Varric to propel more darts into their faces. As was the pattern of the night, the encounter was brief but bloody.

"I guess you were right." Varric said, sheathing his weapon.

"Not yet, Varric." Selden said tensely, moving towards the stairway. There was a black haired mercenary at the landing, walking slowly towards them. Varric, Carver and Aveline stayed back as Hawke approached.

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here." His voice was rough and he wore a dangerously confident grin. His voice rose suddenly and he spoke without looking behind him. "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing, now!"

Selden heard Aveline's sword slip from its sheathe once more, though he did not move to do the same in preparing his staff. Behind the man, a soldier appeared around the corner, limping desperately. He called out a name and when the moonlight hit him, Hawke could see blood on his armor. The man hit the ground quickly, only to be followed by the most peculiar of people.

An Elf stood before them briefly, using a bare foot to kick at the limp body of the Lieutenant. "Your men are dead and you trap has failed." His hair was white, cut choppily around his head as if he hadn't a care in the world of how it looked. His skin was an odd tone familiar to anyone who knew the Elves of Thedas, but this Elf had tattoos unlike any other's Hawke had seen. As white as his hair and seemingly etched into his skin, they were flowing and ritualistic over his chest, neck, up to his bottom lip and they also crawled down the visible parts of his arms. His armor was black and leathery with a tented metal breastplate covering the shape of his ribcage. He appeared to have feathers at his shoulders and elbows, but upon closer inspection the points were in fact sharp pieces of his leather armor. At his back, he carried a mighty great sword, which seemed to be nearly his height. Most notably, his voice was deep and cat-like in the way he almost _purred. _

"I suggest running back to your master while you can." The Elf took the stairs slowly, walking passed the leader of the fallen man and down the stairs. He punctuated his sentence by putting his back to the Captain and looking at the four people in Hawke's entourage.

"You're going now where, _Slave._" The man growled, coming up behind the white haired Elf and grabbing his shoulder. Selden was about to speak, to try and calm the situation down, but what happened next was entirely unexpected. In a single, swift motion the Elf turned, grabbed his assailants arm and raised a fist. The markings on his skin glowed a bluish white, which Selden recognized, and then he simply pressed his fist through the other man's chest. It was if the arm had ceased to be solid and then solidified once more inside of the man's ribcage. He held his position for a few seconds, blood seeping down the man's body, before he slowly lowered the Captain to the ground almost…gently.

"_I am not a slave._" The words were muttered angrily as the Elf pulled his hand from the dead body and turned to face Hawke. Still clinging to his staff with the axe pointing downwards and ready to swing, Selden narrowed his eyes suspiciously and listened to Bianca, Carver's hammer and Aveline's sword clinking against armor behind him. The Elf took a two more steps down the stairs and stopped, looking at them curiously. "I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so…numerous." Walking to the right, the Elf seemed to be studying the few bodies littered around them.

Selden turned with the curious Elf, keeping his staff behind him at ready. "This was your doing?"

"I am the reason you are here, yes." Once he reached a body he kicked it gingerly with a bare foot, then turned to look at them again. Selden noticed that his eyes were an odd color of green. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters working to reclaim a magister's lost property; namely myself." He glanced sidelong at the Captain he'd just killed, gesturing slightly in his way. Then, he began ever so casually picking bits of blood and flesh off of his arm. "They were trying to lure me out into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"Thankfully?" Carver scoffed behind them, dragging the head of his hammer in the dirt of the Alienage floor.

"It seems you were right, brother…about Anso being a liar." Selden slowly sheathed his staff at his back, not looking away from this…Fenris.

"He was not lying, you were merely led to believe you were working for someone else." Fenris stated, stepping over the body he was inspecting to meet them.

"Why couldn't you fight them yourself? Or run?" Aveline asked curiously, though she was not as trusting as Hawke, keeping her sword in hand.

"There comes a time when you must stop running," The Elf said. "That time has come."

"You're an important slave then?" Varric asked, stepping closer to inspect Fenris. He went passed Hawke, looking up at the Elf. The dwarf looked over his shoulder at his companions, then nodded. "Yup. That's lyrium." The comment pulled a grumble of dissent from Carver.

Fenris moved backwards from Varric's inquisition, putting his hands up. "Yes. I am sure it must look strange to you. I did not receive the markings by choice, but even so, they have served me well. Without them, I'd hardly have been able to escape my pursuers." Again, he gestured to the mangled former ribcage of the slaver captain.

Selden nodded appreciatively, heaving a sigh. "I am glad we could help, then, if they were really trying to capture you." Slavery was not something Selden thought highly of; it was worse than what they did to mages in the Circle. Indoctrination, even.

"It is refreshing to meet someone who is not seeking personal gain; I have met so few people." Fenris looked passed them, towards the house. "If I may ask, what was in the chest?"

Selden turned to look in that direction, shaking his head. "It was empty. Were you expecting something to be there?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It would be too much to hope for." Fenris shook his head and crouched next to the body of the captain, searching through his pockets. "It was bait, nothing more." He pulled his metal armored glove off of one hand to better dig around, Selden turned to cue the others to toss bodies away, this time they seemed to have a bit of an audience.

"Looking for something in particular?" Hawke asked, kicking the dirt in the ground to cover up a blood stain.

Fenris was silent for a moment, but then huffed angrily. "It is as I thought." He produced a crumpled piece of paper and threw it in front of him as if it were poisonous. "My former master is here in the city. I am sure you have questions…"

"That is an understatement." Carver interrupted.

"I will explain more afterwards, but unfortunately our time is running out. I need to reach him before he flees. I will confront him and I need your help." Fenris looked at Carver with a bit of annoyance, but then focused back on Hawke.

"It sounds as if you intend to do more than confront him." Aveline's voice sounded cautious, as usual.

"Danarius wishes to strip my flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters after me that I have lost count." Fenris' voice dropped and he looked at the guard with a grimace. "And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage; a personal pet to mock Qunari custom. So yes. I intend to do more than just talk."

Selden's eyes widened and he gestured ahead of them. "I've no love for slavers. If you need our help; lead the way."

Fenris' expression changed for a moment, almost softened, before he nodded. "Follow me, we have only a short time before he discovers his hunters have failed." The Elf turned on his heel, taking the stairs two at a time.

"What are we, brother; the Lowtown Sympathy team?" Carver asked, shaking his head.

Selden shrugged. "Better that than sitting at home with Uncle Gamlen, right?" Then, without seeing if Aveline or Varric agreed, Hawke followed Fenris to Hightown.

* * *

The trip to Hightown had been more eventful than Hawke had expected. Aside from fighting bandits along the way, listening to Carver discuss how stupid this was and with Varric gambling on how crazy their new companion was going to go when they got to their destination, they had quite a challenge once inside the mansion. Whether it had been Fenris' former master or not, the mansion had been filled with traps and enchanted with quite a few Shades and rage demons; none of which anyone liked to fight off. Then, once they'd discovered the magister had gotten away, Fenris had stomped off outside.

Hawke passed out some supplies to nurse some burns on Aveline and Carver before stepping out into the night air. Fenris was leaning against the wall of the mansion's courtyard, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He wore a gauntlet on each hand that had pointed silver tips at his fingers, likely to help press his first into chest cavities a bit easier. They were still filled with bits of blood here and there, but he seemed to pick it all off as he went about his business. Selden canted his head at the man as he approached, noticing how he had his knee bent, one bare foot pressed against the wall.

"I saw you in there." Selden stopped walking, arching a black eyebrow. Fenris' voice was filled with an accusation and his green eyes narrowed dangerously. Hawke paused a few feet away, crossing his own arms over his chest. "You are a mage. It seems I spend my time running from magisters, only to find myself again surrounded by the cursed magi of this world."

Selden's eyes widened at the comment and he stepped closer, his boots scuffing on the stone sidewalk. "Your eyes did not lie to you, yet I do not see you turning and running away."

Fenris chuckled darkly. "I have nothing to fear from magic, aside from its ability to destroy all that it touches." He pushed off the wall, approaching Selden bluntly so that they were nearly chest to chest. Hawke looked down at the other man, who was a few inches shorter than him. Up close, he could see the way their skin differed; Fenris' was smoother though marked by the lyrium, where Selden's was rougher and he boasted a decent face of hair. Selden's hair was brushed back from his face, where Fenris' covered his right eye almost completely. They were a contrast in colors; where Selden was dark, Fenris was shock white. "Every mage desires something; what is it that you desire?"

Hawke narrowed his bright, cerulean blue eyes and canted his head. "I desire to be seen as a man not a mage." He did not appreciate the hostile Elf's accusation. "I do not bear any desire aside from that nor do I spend my free time consorting with demons nor do I fight unfairly by painting pictures in the air with blood." Selden, in fact, quite despised blood magic.

Neither man backed down from their momentary stance, eyeing up one another to see who might step back first. The door to the abandoned mansion opened though, and Carver spoke up quite suddenly.

"Oi, Elf!" Selden's eyes left Fenris' for long enough to look sidelong at his brother, who had his hammer in hand. "He who has trouble with my brother, has it with me!"

Fenris shook his head and stepped back, shrugging his shoulders as if to loosen his mood. "Forgive me. I must seem ungrateful and that is far from the truth."

"It had better be. We've killed half of the bandits in Kirkwall in one night for you." Carver belted his hammer over his shoulder and he clapped his hands together, then brushed his spikey hair up so it stood on end. He eyed Fenris, but turned to Varric as the dwarf stepped out. "Well, shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Aveline asked, looking at Hawke questioningly, noticing the tenseness in his shoulders. She leaned in the door way, her guard armor glinting in the moonlight.

"Clean up and get a drink, of course!" Varric announced, moving over to Fenris to pat the Elf's side. Fenris stepped out of range rather gracefully, though, giving the Dwarf a glare. "And you're invited…with that mood even! You look like you could use a drink…or twelve. Meet you there, Hawke? Aveline, you too! Everyone'll be there!" Aveline was rolling her eyes at the thought of 'everyone,' but the woman was nodding anyways. She'd be there.

Selden merely nodded and turned on his heel, gesturing for Carver to follow him. "Give us a bit longer than normal, I think I have blood in my blood." He could use a drink with his friends; Isabela always managed to cheer him up with some stupid drinking game and he felt the need to shake off the look Fenris had given him when he came out of the mansion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was not until the Mage and his friends turned down the stair well away from the abandoned mansion that Fenris moved from where he stood. Turning sharply on his heel, he kicked a barrel against the wall and then violently pounded a fist into the top of the wooden lid, splitting it easily. Shutting his eyes tightly, he huffed breath out of clenched teeth, trying to calm down the sudden surge of anger he had. Not only had Danarius managed to play with him from afar again, but the Elf had resorted to the help of a _mage_ to sort it out. He could feel the familiar painful tingle up his arms, warming the skin under his jaw that was marked with lyrium. His head was busy with too many voices; Danarius' mocking coo, taunting. The dwarf Varric's voice as he left, inviting him for a drink. The Mage's words of wanting to be seen as nothing more than a man, the hypocrisy of that. His own, screaming out in anger.

Fenris barely managed to kick open the door before that shout came to fruition and he slammed the door behind him as he did. His anguish echoed through the empty mansion and he felt his knees connect with the floor before he realized he was falling. Muttering in Tevene, he dragged the sharp tips of one of his gauntlets into the cold stone floor, enjoying the way it shrieked and scratched. Green eyes opened and he glared around the entry hall of the mansion, noting the way everything was covered in cobwebs and dust. There was a soft breeze coming in from a hole in the ceiling and everything smelled like…like something had died.

Pushing himself to his feet roughly, Fenris strode defiantly to one of the flanking stairwells and up to the room where he had discovered Danarius was gone. The room was dark now that Hawke and his friends had left with their lanterns. Dust from the dissolved shades piled up around the room and there were burn marks from spells in various spots. _A mage_ had been here. Fenris growled in frustration and kicked a box against the wall nearest to the door way, only to feel sharp pain sear up from the bottom of his foot. As he pulled his leg up and grabbed his foot, balancing on one leg, he looked down at the box. In the dim light, he could see liquid pouring out and a familiar fermented smell met his nose.

It was a Tevinter wine. The very same wine that Danarius had him pour for his guests. The very same wine that he had thrown in his face by the servants who looked down upon him. The very same _damned_ wine he had spent nights cursing about in the darkness of his room had just cut his foot. Ignoring the pain of putting his leg back down, Fenris crouched by the box and opened it to find a case of about nine bottles, one was broken. A red wax stamp was at the neck of each, but there were no other markings. Sitting cross legged, he pulled one from the case and pulled off one of his gauntlets so he could open it. Twisting the bottle open as he was so used to, he swirled the wine under his nose and smiled bitterly. He'd never tasted it before; when they'd thrown it at him, he'd been forbidden from even touching the liquid himself to clean it off. The red grapes that made the wine had more rights than he ever had.

But no longer.

Nervousness surged in his stomach as he realized something; he was sitting in an empty building in Kirkwall; far away from the Imperium. There were no servants, Danarius was not around – not really. If he took a sip, no one would stop him. There would be no fist in the back of his head to chide him. Pursing his lips, he tilted the bottle to them and took a very small taste. Immediately tensing, Fenris barely tasted the flavor before he opened his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming. Someone was not going to come flying out of nowhere with a whip. He was alone in the room with only the moonlight to keep him company.

So, he took bigger drink, tipping his head back to down the wine even faster. He did not stop drinking until he needed a breath and he came up gasping. The wine was _delicious_. It tasted different than he expected. It smelled sour and rotten sometimes, but this was sweet. Bitter on the back end of the tongue, but warm all the way down. He looked down at the bottle as he took a few, deep breaths and laughed heartily, dangerously.

He was _winning_. Sitting in Danarius' mansion with a bottle of his precious wine. Finishing off the bottle, Fenris stood suddenly, ignoring his pain again. He'd wrap it eventually. He needed light! With a candle stick in hand, he scratched a match until it was alit and then went around lighting some of the other candles in the room before he padded down the stairs into one of the antechambers. Fabric curtains were torn from the windows and dragged up into the room. He found a bed, took it apart and rebuilt it in the room, tucking it into the corner. The same thing was done with a dusty table. He would stay here until Danarius came again.

It took him only over an hour to put together the bed and hang the tattered red cloth from the ceiling, making himself a fine little room for himself. The windows were covered and hidden, allowing no light in unless he wanted it. The bed was tucked into a corner and he dragged in boxes full of the wine he found in the cellar. He ignored the little bloody footprints he made wherever he went, thinking they were actually quite fitting for the room. The Elf was nearly about to sit down and drink more of the wine when there was a timid knock on the door.

Fenris froze, narrowing his eyes and looking around for where he had placed his sword. Grabbing the weapon, he stalked down the stairs, calling out loud. "_I am ready for you, Danarius!_ You will not take me!" There was silence, except for a clearing throat. It didn't matter to Fenris that it sounded female. "_Speak!_ I will not humor your tricks!"

"Actually…" The voice said, before another knock. "It is Aveline Vallen. We met earlier?"

"What do you want?" Fenris tore the door open with a scowl and looked at the redheaded woman standing in his doorway, her shocked expression would have been amusing to most people. She'd changed from her guard uniform and was wearing a brown tunic over a white shirt. Brown leggings tucked into her boots and she carried only her sword with her. Her red hair was pulled into a loose tie and she smiled nervously.

"I dropped something in the fighting earlier." Aveline said, arching a delicate brow at him. "I was hoping to recover it?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes and looked behind him. "It took you this long to discover its loss? Must not be of much import."

"That's hardly the truth." The Fereldan woman explained, shaking her head. "I was merely changing my clothing before heading into Lowtown for the evening. Could I come in to look for it?"

Fenris sighed heavily and stepped back from the door, gesturing inside to allow the woman entry. He could silently understand the sadness of losing something precious. Aveline nodded her thanks and stepped in after him, gently closing the door. She wandered around the main floor, looking at the ground, though for only a short moment. "Are you bleeding?"

"No." Fenris stated flatly, crossing his arms over his chest after leaning his sword against the wall. She pointed at the ground. "Not anymore."

"This is fresh." Aveline walked towards him, looking him up and down. "Your foot, Fenris!" Her concern frightened him and he look down, to see blood pooling around his right foot, where he'd cut it. Aveline marched over to him and pointed to the stairs. "Sit down." Her motherly tone was surprising and Fenris found himself obeying – in a different way than he was used to. When he did, she crouched in front of him and grabbed his bleeding leg, pushing the leather fabric away from the cut and off the back of his heel. Fenris pulled his leg away from her, drawing it to his chest defensively. "What did this?"

"I kicked a bottle of wine open." Fenris stated blankly, looking at her with an arched brow. "I've had worse, it's nothing to be concerning yourself with. Did you find it?"

Aveline shook her head and dug into her side pack, immediately pulling out a roll of bandages and some soft cotton gauze. Without a word about it, though, she pointed to the foot and then held out her hand, Fenris again found himself obeying. "You've a gash that needs stitches. You could get it infected in this filthy room. Why are you still here?" She began to dab at the wound. Fenris pulled his foot away roughly, though, when one of her fingers brushed over one of three white circles on the top of his foot. Fenris hissed under his breath. She looked up at him with an annoyed look for a moment, but it softened when she saw him.

Fenris had recoiled his foot back up to his hand, where he cupped it tightly. Without realizing, he had an expression of discomfort on and he was digging three fingers into each circle. He found the only way to wash away the feeling of someone touching the markings was to make them hurt instead.

"I am sorry. Do they hurt?" Aveline's tone was gentle and worried.

"Not…exactly." Fenris murmured, looking away.

"Will you let me fix the cut if I promise to not touch them too often? You really need to close that, Fenris." There was something so kind in her words that filled Fenris with a bit of confusion and sadness. Though, despite his reclusion, he found himself releasing his foot and stretching it out her again. She was right, just in holding his foot, he'd drenched his hand in blood. Aveline smiled gently and took his foot back into her hands, making sure not to touch any of the white lines when she didn't need to. She had to, since the cut went over one, but she was brief and moved quickly. They sat in silence as she cleaned the wound and pulled out a needle and some proper stitching thread. When the needle dug into the flesh of his skin, he only looked to the side, biting down on his lip to silence the pain. It hurt, but it was not the worst pain he'd ever felt.

Before he knew it, Aveline was wrapping up his foot and pulling the leather strap to his leather boot-like leggings back over his heel. She leaned back onto her haunches and looked up at him with concern. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"I will stay here." Fenris pulled his leg away from her, drawing it into his chest.

"You cannot be serious; there is a hole in the ceiling." Aveline said. "I have a space in my barracks, you can stay there?"

"In the Keep? No thank you." Fenris muttered, shaking his head. "No, I think I should stay here."

"At least come with me, then." Aveline encouraged, standing up. "I am headed to The Hanged Man. Varric has been touting on about a new deck of cards he purchased. Do not tell anyone, but I am quite good at playing."

The mention of cards drew Fenris' attention and he looked at the woman with pursed lips. "Will that mage be there?"

"Who, Hawke?" Aveline asked, laughing a little bit. "Of course he will, he owes Varric at least two sovereigns. He's terrible at the game, but too proud to admit defeat." Fenris shook his head. "Do you dislike magic?"

"That would be a gross understatement." Fenris stood slowly, testing his foot – it hurt, but not as badly.

"Hawke's not much of a fan of it either." Aveline commented, beginning her search the floor again. "He prefers the sharp end of his staff to the magic end any day."

"And you know this how? Mages can never be trusted." Fenris asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

Aveline crouched and picked up something with a gentle smile, pushing a ring onto her finger. She looked over at Fenris with a sad sort of look, shrugging one shoulder. "He saved my life in Ferelden a little over a year ago. I've gotten to know him in that time and he's…different." Aveline smiled gently. "You like cards, don't you? I saw your face." Fenris scoffed and looked aside for a moment, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He loved cards, actually. He was addicted to trying to win over the stupid little pieces of paper. Aveline laughed lightly and waved a hand. "Come. You will enjoy yourself, I promise. If not, I'll never bother you about it again."

The woman turned and headed for the door, opening it and gesturing outside. Fenris looked behind him a moment. He could decline; he wanted to decline simply out of stubborn principle, but the draw of more alcohol and cards was interesting. There was something about the group he'd met, something about the freedom in which they'd helped him. Hawke, Aveline, Varric and Carver had not even asked for coin when they'd left. They were seemingly uninterested in that. And, there was something _different_ about Hawke. He was not like the magisters in Tevinter.

"Come on, it's just one night." Aveline said kindly and Fenris nodded, stepping down the stairs to follow her. He would need to get his armor and sheathe his weapon, danger lurked in the Kirkwall streets at night. But, this was what freedom was, right? Doing as he pleased. And, tonight, Fenris wanted to beat someone at cards again.

* * *

The Hanged Man was a strange place, really. It smelled of piss, vomit and bad hygiene, but there was something friendly about it. All sorts of people were welcome, the bartenders were perfectly terrible and always ignored you like family. The mead tasted terrible, but everyone drank it anyways. No one seemed to pass judgment on the others – unless someone got into a discussion about the size of their genitalia or how big of a weapon they were carrying (isn't it the same thing?). It was so loud at times there was no point in talking and never very clean.

When Fenris stepped into the place he frowned; he'd only ever walked passed it. The smell was sudden and the dirty air was stifling, but he still followed Aveline inside. They'd managed to travel from Hightown to Lowtown without incident and the woman was eager to show off that achievement to her friends. Aveline shouldered her way through the crowd and passed the bar, heading across the room to a stairway. Fenris looked around, feeling his nerves stand on end at the sheer amount of people in the room. Though Aveline had teased him for it, he had pulled his gauntlets back on and was completely armored. He was not going to be caught unprepared by his pursuers. It seemed most people in the Hanged Man had a similar thought.

They took the stairs and the Elf felt a bit better as the volume went down and it felt cooler. Aveline pushed open a door right in front of the stairs and stepped inside. Fenris slowed his pace, wanting to take stock of the room. A familiar voice called out the woman's name and he stepped in just to see her embraced around the waist by Varric. The room was rather large; there was a long table with many chairs set out as well as a fire. Though there were several people there, it was much less packed than downstairs.

Fenris looked for the familiar faces first; Varric removed himself from Aveline and moved back to his chair; he did not carry his weapon with him, but the crossbow was leaning against his chair. Carver, the other warrior, was leaning over a set of cards with a scruffy-faced man with blonde hair and a ponytail. They seemed quite enthralled with something on a particular card, taking turns pointing things out. He noticed the black, brushed back hair before he realized who he was looking at and his gaze fell to Hawke's just as the man turned to look at him. Those blue eyes were brighter in this light. He had a uniquely handsome face; a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. He kept his facial hair only long enough to give him a shadow of hair to frame his lips and jawline. Without his armor, he looked less bulky but there was obvious muscle definition in his arms. He had a black long coat on with a red sash belt tied around his waist. Leaning back in his chair, he canted his head at Fenris.

"Decided to join us?" His voice was smooth; comfortable to the ears and when he spoke, he smirked with each word. Fenris nodded wordlessly, noticing three magic staves against the wall behind Hawke. He recognized the red and black axe as the black haired mage's, but two others were unfamiliar. Were there more mages here? Fenris looked around the room quickly, trying to guess who.

His eyes fell back to the blonde man with Carver; he wore a brown vest over a grey tunic but had a green coat hanging off the chair behind him. Black and white thin feathers covered the shoulders. He had his hair pulled back behind his ears and had a handsome, rather manly face. His smile was careless and warm. Fenris was not sure if he could be a mage. Aveline, Varric and Carver were already in the clear…

"Well, well, what 'ave we here?" Fenris felt a hand on his shoulder and he tensed, turning to look right into the beautiful face of a woman. She wore a white corseted tunic and…not much else. Her black hair was held back with a blue bandana and she had a silky smooth voice. She carried her weapons with her; two hand axes at her back. Not a mage. "Merrill, if all of your elves look this…delicious, bring them all!"

Fenris shrugged the woman's hand off of his shoulder and he looked to Aveline; who realized he needed rescuing. He looked to the one other person he hadn't identified, who happened to be another Elf. Her skin was extremely pale; her face decorated with black tattoos. Her hair was short and cropped almost like Fenris', but it had braids.

"Well, I did not bring him…" Merrill looked right at him, her eyes wide. She seemed surprised to see another Elf. Now_, she _looked like a mage.

"He's not one of Merrill's, Isabela." Aveline returned to Fenris' side, shaking her head at the other woman. "I invited him."

"Not true, Aveline. I did, technically." Varric said. "Come, elf! Sit down, have a drink! And take off that damned armor! You're among friends."

"That remains to be seen." Fenris muttered, but he moved closer to the table, with Aveline. Isabela winked at him and moved over to sit next to Hawke, who was remaining quiet with a mug in his hands and an annoyingly amused look on his face. His blue eyes never left Fenris. "What?" The Elf asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing." Hawke said, gesturing to the only open seat; which was next to him. Aveline had placed herself with a space between herself and Hawke. "Varric just owes me some coin. He was certain you weren't coming."

"And you were?" Fenris asked, sitting down slowly in the chair – once he'd moved his sword to sit against the back of his seat.

Hawke merely nodded and looked to Isabela as she whispered something in his ear. The mage chuckled and grabbed a mug, sliding it to Fenris. "Here, it tastes like shit, but it'll make you better at cards."

Fenris looked down at the brown mead in his mug, pursing his lips in thought. "Thank you, I suppose." He looked across the table, nodding gently in greeting to Carver, who was beginning to pass out cards.

"Give me the one with the cats on them, please." The blonde next to Carver said, leaning back and crossing his hands over his stomach.

"No, Anders." Varric called out, slamming his mug down. "You already cheat enough with your damned spells, we're not giving you all the same cards."

"But, they've just got cats on them, Varric. Nothing special." Anders complained.

So _that _was the other mage. Fenris' lips curled into a frown and he pushed his chair backwards, distancing himself from Hawke and Anders. The movement pushed him closer to Aveline, which was quite alright.

"So, explain this game again, Varric?" The warrior woman asked, leaning forward on her forearms. Carver handed everyone at the table two cards, face down.

"Everyone each gets two cards, check them to see which value you have, but do not show them to anyone." Varric started. "Then, you make a bet; gold is best but we'll take favors too. Write your favors on the scrap papers."

"Favors?" Aveline asked, looking incredulous.

"Yes, like…wash winners clothes or something. Favors." Varric smirked. "Isabela always offers up kisses anywhere the winner wants. Then, make a bet or fold. Everyone goes around. Once we get back to the dealer, Carver…we give everyone two more cards. Then, everyone looks…folds or bets. The last and final round includes only one card, so everyone will have five. Again, you can fold or bet. Upon the final player, we'll see who has the highest hand…and they win the pile. Everyone understand?"

"What is this game called?" Merill asked, looking a bit worried.

"It's called Varric-Almost-Always-Wins." Hawke snorted shaking his head.

"That's a terrible name for a game." The Elven woman huffed, looking confused. Everyone chuckled a little. "Oh…oh, you were joking. Sorry!"

Varric patted her arm and then gestured to the table. "We'll begin. Anders, you're to Carver's left, you're first."

Fenris looked at his cards; one was marked with a heart and a number twoand the other had three cats drawn on it. Was that a three? He was interrupted though, by Hawke speaking next to him.

"Maker's Breath, Varric, do you rig these things?" He seemed unhappy with his hand.

"Only your cards my friend, only yours." Varric muttered and for a moment, the whole room fell silent as everyone pondered.

"Well, I'm out." Anders announced, sliding his cards in. "I've no interest in cleaning your underclothes again, Varric."

"Oh, blondie, I have money up for grabs this time!"

"You always say that, dwarf." Carver mumbled, looking to Merrill, who was next.

"Well, I'm putting my sewing skills up for bargain." She announced placing a bet down. "I'll sew every hole in your clothes if I lose." Everyone's eyes went to Varric.

"One sovereign." The dwarf announced, placing the coin down.

"Kisses, anywhere, as usual." Isabela stated, smiling confidently at Hawke.

"I'm not stupid enough to bet." The mage slid his cards in and opted to take a big swig of his drink. Fenris only realized everyone else was looking at him by how wide Hawke's eyes looked over the rim of his mug.

"Aaah. I've a few silvers." Fenris only needed a few more cards for a good hand and he placed some on the table and looked to Aveline, to rush everyone away from looking at him.

"A sovereign." She announced, placing her hand down.

"Wait, you're the elf who doesn't like mages, right?" Anders asked suddenly, drawing Fenris' gaze back to him. Carver was chuckling.

"Who told you that?" Hawke asked, before Fenris could speak.

"Your brother said he found the two of you ready to either kiss or strangle one another." Anders said, looking away from Fenris to Hawke. "Carver seems to think you wanted to punch him, but…" There was something strange in the way Anders looked at Hawke, like there was some sort of hidden meaning in his gaze. Fenris felt as tense as Hawke looked next to him.

"Oh, bugger off, Anders. Carver, deal." Hawke growled, drinking again.

Carver chuckled as he went, shaking his head. Anders and Hawke continued to glower at one another, while Isabela looked across Hawke at Fenris.

"I'm never sure if I want to kiss him or punch him either, pretty Elf. Trust me, the feeling never changes." The woman grinned…though that faded with the frown Fenris sent her way.

"I have no interest in kissing a mage and I would have punched him if I wanted to touch him." The Elf's voice rumbled and the group broke out in chuckles and comments like 'told you Hawke's not that interesting' and 'I like him, he's mean.' Fenris looked at the man sitting next to him, meeting his eyes. He did not look hurt or annoyed, but instead rather intrigued as if he had learned something interesting. "What?"

"Check your new cards." Hawke said with a smirk, taking a drink from his mug.

Fenris scoffed a bit and did his bidding, finally sipping from his drink. The taste of the swill was rather repulsive and Fenris coughed a bit. He had a good hand, though, and he had to hide his smile in the mug. They went around the table; Isabela folded and so did Varric with many swear words, leaving it between Aveline, Merrill and Fenris. One more card was passed out and once again, Fenris had to hide his small smirk in his drink. He might win! His victory over the cards would be easy! This time around, Merill folded and Aveline stood strong.

"Alright, let's see the cards." Carver said, who was dealing.

Fenris turned over his first, causing a ruckus of small hoots and claps around the room and Aveline sighed. "You won, Fenris." The woman said, revealing her hand was not all that great. The Elf huffed a sigh and took a drink, accepting the gold and favors passed around. The cards were collected and reshuffled, allowing the group to play again.

The surge of enjoyment of winning kept Fenris there longer than he had expected; he lost most of what he won, though Merill and Isabela continued to pester him about the favors he had won from them. His wine drinking had softened his alcohol tolerance just enough for him to relax; he set aside his gauntlets and did not worry about his sword as often. They played many games before Varric drunkenly placed his hands on the table.

"Alright, I'm done! You g-guys…clean up. I'm…bed." Wobbling out of his chair, the dwarf disappeared into the back of the room.

"So….Fenris, is that it?" Isabela asked. Aveline had stood up to discuss something with Carver about weaponry and suddenly the Elf was wishing that he had followed. Isabela sat down next to him quite suddenly and leaned on his chair. Her motion caused him to lean away, in Hawke's direction.

"That is what I am called, yes. What of it?" Fenris asked slowly.

"It is an interesting name. Where are you from?" Isabela cooed.

"Not here."

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, love. You're not from here."

"Neither are you." Fenris said slowly; he recognized her accent as from Rivain…or somewhere near.

"But, you're _really_ not from here, love. You're…different. These markings are…lyrium right? Are you a mage?" Fenris heard Hawke huff from behind him.

"Hardly. They are a curse as much as magic is." Fenris did not totally like the inquisition. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well. I owe you a kiss…I like to know a bit about the people I am kissing."

"I told you, I do not need a kiss." Fenris explained, though froze when Isabela leaned in and kissed his cheek, right at the base of one of his ears. He tensed, gritting his teeth. Her lips were soft like petals, which…did feel nice.

"See? That's a free one. They're nice…kisses are." She looked him up and down. "Seems you need more kisses; what with how you're so…taught and…tense…and…mmm. Hawke, excuse us?"

Selden Hawke chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I'm not about to leave him with you, Isabela, you're insatiable."

Fenris actually looked over at Hawke, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"Awh, don't be a spoil sport, Hawke. Or a jealous one either. You can't have us both." Isabela winked." "I mean, you could have me. When will you give into that?"

"You know you're not my type, Isabela." Hawke said sweetly, shaking his head. "Though, you're always welcome to give me kisses."

"Oh, I know I'm not your type. But I know who is…" Isabela made a very obvious head gesture in Fenris' direction. The Elf frowned, surprised by her blatant nature and outright lies…or, were they? He looked to Hawke, who was glowering at her and shaking his head, though he had a blush in his cheeks that was not from alcohol. Fenris remained silent as Isabela giggled maniacally. "You should travel witn us, Fenris. Carver said you're amazing with that sword of yours and well…I'd like to see that." She winked, blew a kiss at them both and essentially pranced away from them, singing; "I've done my jooooob."

"She's insane." Hawke said suddenly, clearing his throat.

"Is she?" Fenris asked, leaning away from Hawke. He did not turn to face the man, instead he played with a sovereign he had won on the table.

"I mean, she's not telling the tru-…I mean, that's a lie. But, you know…" Hawke was stumbling, which was an odd thing for him. He did seem well put together. "Oh, just ignore her."

The Elf felt a surge of confusion that was definitely caused from his alcohol consumption. Aveline came over to him though, smiling brightly. She had hardly had anything to drink.

"Alright Fenris! Let's head back, alright?" The two had agreed to leave together so they might travel safely. Fenris nodded firmly and stood, finishing his drink in one swoop. He glanced down at Hawke, who was holding one of his gauntlets out to him.

"Er- thank you." Fenris took the metal glove, pulling it on.

"Best I can do, really. For getting made to look like a fool." Hawke stood and tipped his head to the two of them. "Travel safely, the both of you. And, Aveline – we'll get together soon about the group in Sundermount, alright? And, Fenris, I may need you to return your favor of help soon, I'll let you know." The mage turned from them and made his way to the other side of the room where Isabela was. Fenris noticed they began to talk and Isabela began to laugh again.

"Don't mind them, Fenris. Especially Isabela, she likes to stir up trouble." Aveline said, gesturing for him to head out.

"It is…alright." Fenris muttered and nodded, grabbing his weapon. "Let us go." He stepped out of the room after the woman with one last glance that the room. Unfortunately, he was not going to be able to tell Aveline he'd had a bad time. Despite himself, the group was funny. Anders was a bit of a nut job about magic. Merrill was a blood mage, which Hawke seemed to dislike as much as he did. Carver was a good strategist, Aveline was kind hearted and Isabela was a flirt. Most of all, they were all free.  
That was all Fenris wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes from Eli: Hello everyone! I am so sorry there was such a delay between chapters! I am a manager at a retail location so this time of the year is stupid stupid busy! Thank you so much reviewer for your comments! I appreciate them! I do try so hard to keep in character 3 Anywhooo! I have finished moving and am now back in writing moooooode. Enjoy this chapter! I did want to let you all know that there will likely be some NSFW stuff coming up soonish, but I will not be posting that here. Fanfiction has some rules. So, keep an eye out at the end of chapters for a "to be continued" link. That will take you to my tumblr. Also, welcome new followers! Mwah!

* * *

3 

The mission Selden Hawke had brought Fenris along had turned out to be quite enjoyable; they'd followed Aveline out into the wilderness to find a group of bandits and highwaymen and quickly disposed of them. Apparently, it had been a bad step on Aveline's part, as they were then very suddenly catapulted into the inner workings of Kirkwall's City Guard and the Captain's corruption. Fenris had never doubted that there was corruption, but it was even more infuriating to see it firsthand. At the end of the entire thing, Aveline was called to speak with the Viscount and Carver left to play cards with Anders, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone in the foyer of the Keep.

"Are we going to wait for her?" Fenris asked, glancing around the room skeptically. The rich and well-off made him uncomfortable; they acted the same as the magisters back in Tevinter.

"I was not planning on it." Hawke said, scratching the back of his head. He wore his staff upside down, as if it were a pole arm; there were enough Templars around to sniff out his magic if they wanted to, so he didn't want to entice them. "I do not fancy standing around here any longer than necessary."

The Elf nodded to the other man, gesturing in front of him to cue him to take the lead out of the place. Fenris watched the human for a moment, noting the way he moved and looked around the room. He walked with his shoulders set and his head held high and there was a small amount of grace to him that was almost Elven, though Carver did not have it. Selden Hawke was _different. _ It had been nearly two weeks since they first met and Fenris was feeling less and less nervous around the mage. He rarely cast his spells outside of battle and always seemed to use the axe side of his weapon as equally as his skill. He never took lyrium to boost his magical ability, saying he'd rather fight without it than drink the addictive stuff. That all aside, they seemed to agree on most things. Magic was dangerous, especially in the wrong hands, but blood magic was even worse. There was something wrong with the hierarchy of power in the Free Marches. Tevinter was wrong for allowing mages to rule, demons would take advantage of such power in an instant and likely had. Hawke was level headed and fair when it came to most decisions and most importantly, he never showed pity to Fenris. There had been times when Anders, Aveline or Isabela would question the Elf about his past and all of them responded sympathetically to him whenever he would share bits of his history. Selden simply listened, commented where he needed to but did not treat Fenris like a poor wounded animal.

Kirkwall was beginning to get cold for the fall season and when they stepped outside, Fenris narrowed his eyes in annoyance at the cold stone under his feet and tucked his hands under his armpits, despite his gauntlets, to warm them up. Hawke drew his black coat in tighter and glanced over his shoulder. "Fancy a drink?"

Fenris found himself nodding. "I would. But none of that Hanged Man swill."

Hawke chuckled lightly, taking the steps down into Hightown at Fenris' side. The pair earned some looks from the locals – a white-haired and white tattooed Elf and a Fereldan both heavily armored was a sight in most places, but especially in Hightown. "Where then? I'm not going to the Blooming Rose again."

"Again…?" Fenris asked, but then waved the question away. "I have…some wine back at Danarius' mansion." He still could not come to call it his own.

"Are you inviting me over?" Hawke inquired.

"I am." Fenris nodded, heaving a gently sigh. "I suppose I am." He repeated, then gestured ahead of him. "Get going before I change my mind.

Hawke cast a look at him for a moment, an amused smirk on his lips before he nodded and turned down the street towards the Estates. "What sort of wine is this?"

"It is something from Tevinter." Fenris explained keeping up with Hawke just fine despite the man's superior height. "I'll tell you more about it sometime."

They moved the rest of the time in silence, though Fenris' mansion was not all that far from the Keep. Once inside the rundown estate, Fenris locked the door and led Hawke upstairs. As the mage walked, Fenris heard him unbuckling his shoulder armor and when they got into the room Fenris had made his own, Hawke set the armor down and leaned his staff against the door. "Like what you've done with the place…" He commented, looking around in the dim light.

Fenris mumbled a thanks and began lighting candles. "It will suffice for now."

"Do you plan on staying?" Hawke asked, stepping over to the fireplace to stir the embers back to life.

"I am not sure yet." The Elf took a deep breath and decided to take off his own armor. The gauntlets were unbuckled, the leather and metal chest piece was pulled off and it left Fenris in just the black, gold lined tunic he preferred and his leather and mixed fabric leggings. Without it all on, he felt much smaller and a bit more exposed. But, truth be told, he was tired of wearing it all after the whole ordeal with Aveline. As an afterthought, he leaned his great sword against the wall opposite Hawke's staff. When he turned back to the room, not only had Hawke got the fire going again, but the man was looking at him with arched brows. "What?"

"No…nothing." He said, turning away from Fenris with an odd blush beginning to grow in his cheeks. "Where's this wine?"

Fenris frowned at the dodged question but gestured to the crates stacked up by the window. He still had a bottle by his table. Walking over to his chair, he sank down into it with a sigh and crossed one leg over the other. Hawke turned to him after grabbing a bottle and approached slowly as he inspected the bottle. "There's nothing written on it."

"I can see that, but the bottle is of nice quality." Selden sat down in the only other chair, which Fenris usually used as a foot rest. He sat back, stretching his legs out wide in front of him. "Where did you find this? Tevinter wine isn't easy to come by."

"There are crates of it in the cellar." Fenris said with a smirk, twisting open the bottle in front of him on the table. "I never thought I'd get to taste it."

"That's an odd comment." Selden pointed out, copying him to twist open the bottle as well.

"I used to serve this to Danarius and his guests. He would have me pour wine for them to intimidate them." Fenris looked at the bottle with furrowed brows. "Then, any left overs were given to the servants to enjoy. They usually discovered something I had done wrong and used the wine to throw it in my face."

"And you never tasted it then?" Selden asked, almost amused.

"Ha. No. If I had, they would have certainly hurt me." Fenris canted his head and took a big swig of the liquid and sighed again. "I believe this is the taste of victory."

Smirking, Hawke took a drink of his own bottle, pulling it away to look appreciatively at it. "Usually, victory tastes like blood and sweat, but this…I agree with you."

"All Tevinter wine is made with the blood and sweat of slaves." Fenris said seriously, his voice dropping.

Selden laughed aloud suddenly, choking a bit on the liquid in his mouth. "Sorry…sorry…I am sure you meant that seriously, but your face…"

"My face?"

"You looked like you were recalling a time you'd sullenly mushed grapes under your feet." Hawke waved a hand. "Sorry, it was inappropriate for me to laugh."

Fenris did have a small smile; the sentence did sound silly in retrospect. The truth was that the Magisters would not trust their precious wine to their slaves. "You are an interesting man, Hawke."

"Hardly." Hawke stated, with his usual humility. "Just your average Fereldan."

"You're the first mage I've not outright hated." Fenris mentioned, taking another drink.

"No, you outright hated me." Selden said, after finishing a few sips. "I just won you over with my charm and good looks."

Fenris fell silent a moment, looking at the other man with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps."

Selden chuckled again, shaking his head. "I was not serious, Fenris."

"That does not mean it might not be true." The Elf explained. "So, I have only heard from others what your exact opinion is."

"On…?" Hawke asked, though he seemed to know what was coming.

"Magic."

"My exact opinion?" The mage leaned further back, slouching a bit in the chair, the movement pushed his legs closer to Fenris' and their knees actually bumped before the raven haired man adjusted them. "Magic is dangerous. I do not believe that it should be allowed to run rampant. My father taught me how to use my skills and more importantly, how to control them. He did not believe the Circle would give myself or my sister that ability."

"Why not?"

Selden sighed. "The Circle is broken. Where there is an opportunity to educate, they merely manage. Sure, every mage does face temptation and that temptation can and will corrupt them without the proper training and information. Why would we not give that to those who are mages? If we arm ourselves with information, then we might be able to fight back the temptation."

Fenris took a drink before speaking. "Do you face temptation?"

"Every night." Hawke said flatly. "Though not as often as I did as a child. My dreams connect me to the Fade and thus to demons, but I have long since learned that if I do not give them anything, they do not have any ammo against me."

"And how have you managed that?" Fenris asked. "Every mage faces temptation and often loses."

"Every person faces temptation, Fenris. Mages merely have a connection to creatures that will exploit it." The mage kept his eyes on Fenris as he spoke. "I have managed it by not giving them the desire they need. What I want, what I crave, what I desire…I always make sure I can get on my own, without help. If there is nothing unattainable to me, then they have nothing to offer me."

"That is a novel point, but are you telling me you would not accept the help of a demon now to bring your sister back, get your mother's estate back or return to your home?" The Elf asked, thinking he had the mage trapped. Surely he did.

"I would not." Selden said matter-of-factly. "Bethany is gone. To bring her back would be to return a shell to this world, not who my sister truly was. I am working to earn my mother's estate back by working with Varric and Bartrand. My investment should turn enough profit for me to bid for the home. And, my home was lost when we left. I do not desire to return there."

"You do not wish for love, long life or riches?" Fenris pressed.

"I do, trust me, I do." Selden said, eyeing the other man a moment. "But those desires that I have are in front of me and are not unattainable."

"In front of you?" Fenris quizzed, sipping from his drink. "Who is it that you love? How will you achieve long life? I suppose we have discussed riches."

"It's hardly love, but I am confident in my abilities." Again, Fenris noticed a look in Selden's eye before the raven haired man looked away. "And long life? My life is mine; it's as long as it'll be…not more, no less." Hawke paused, then looked at Fenris. "What do you desire?"

"Freedom. And Danarius' head on the edge of my sword." The Elf took a big drink to finish his bottle and stood to get more. His weariness seemed to be encouraging the alcohol to surge more through his blood.

"You have freedom, Fenris. And Danarius will come to you." Hawke said confidently. "What do you wish to do with your freedom? Stay here?"

"I could see myself staying here." The Elf returned to the table, setting another bottle down in front of Hawke before he sat down with his own. This time, their knees touched but neither of them moved. "It is an odd thought, though. I have never thought of what I would do when I was free."

"I doubt it ever would have included running with the likes of us." Hawke said, chuckling.

"Hardly, no. Though I have been surprised." Fenris paused, looking at Hawke intently. "You are one of a kind, Hawke."

"I would hope so." The man joked. "Two of me would be exhausting."

"Joking aside, I mean it." The warrior said, leaning forward on with his bottle in his hand.

Hawke fell silent for a moment, just watching him, then he spoke suddenly. "Danarius had you serve wine to intimidate people?"

Furrowing his brow, Fenris nodded, putting down some more wine.

"That seems counter intuitive. I mean…" Hawke leaned forward suddenly, bringing their faces closer. "Maybe I am twisted and just like intimidation, but that is not the effect you have on me."

Fenris felt his stomach turn in nervousness; there had been rumblings between the two of them since they met, but usually it was just caused by Isabela. She was trying to convince Varric to write them into his stories as tragic, unexpected lovers. She explained that most women loved to read about two muscled men kissing, but Fenris usually shrugged her off. Now, with Hawke's face close to his, he wasn't sure what to say. So, he said something that surprised him. "What effect do I have on you?"

"Ha. Let's just call it desire." Selden's deeper voice rumbled a bit.

Fenris' eyes widened and he leaned away, smiling. Then, he chuckled, almost _giggled_ at the blatant comment. He tried to focus and look more intimidating again. Why had he laughed? "I do like a man who isn't afraid to say what's on his mind."

"Is that all you like of a man?" Hawke asked.

Fenris found himself only shaking his head. It wasn't something he ever got to explore willingly. He, as a slave, had to give into every command of Danarius' whether it was simply cleaning up a room or something of a sexual nature. He'd never once thought of his own preferences…well, at least not until he'd gotten to the Fog Warriors. He had discovered they were wanton with their affections, regardless of gender, and his few months there had solidified that belief in his mind. Female or male did not matter to him, but he did find himself drawn to the strength of men. He did not like weakness in anything, especially in a lover.

Hawke took the gesture and silent response as a cue that Fenris was not sure he would regret. He had drawn himself in to lean forward again, only to find Hawke's rough fingers cupping his chin. They scratched at the lyrium under his skin, but for some reason – whether it was the wine or the slight arousal the grip brought to him, Fenris did not feel the need to draw back. Before he could move, Hawke had leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The man's facial hair scratched a bit, but Fenris did not pull back because of it. His hand had raised, the one without the bottle and it floated above Hawke's shoulder uncertainly. He froze at first, surprised at the softness of Selden's lips. It was a different kiss than he'd had before; even recently with Isabela constantly kissing him, Fenris was not expecting what he felt.

After a second spent thinking, Fenris did something he did not expect – again. He responded to Hawke not by pushing him away, but by dropping that hand to the other man's shoulder so he could use it as an anchor to lean into the kiss. Hawke responded by pulling Fenris' bottom lip into his and he rolled the skin under his teeth. That pulled a small gasp from Fenris; again, the Lyrium was touched and it felt…erotic instead of painful. The wine slowed Fenris' normal logic and the kiss continued to deepen. Fenris moved his hand up to Hawke's neck, his fingers resting next to his jawline. Hawke's own hand moved over from his jaw up to the base of his scalp and he opened his mouth to invite Fenris deeper into the kiss.

The Elf was almost out of his chair, his thigh touched Hawke's when he stopped the kiss suddenly, dropping his hand to press his palm flat against Hawke's chest. "Stop." He muttered, looking down and away from the other man. It felt like Fenris' blood was boiling; he had not kissed someone like that before. And…Selden was a mage. "The wine…it's…"

"I am sorry." Selden said, keeping his hand in Fenris' hair for only a moment before pulling back and standing. "I…should let you sleep." Fenris nodded at the comment, glancing up at Hawke. The mage looked extremely handsome in the light, his lips a bit reddened from kissing and his chest pitching a bit with his breath.

"I'm sorry, Hawke." Fenris said suddenly, leaning back roughly in the chair. "You're a very handsome man." Hawke raised a hand to stop him, but Fenris shook his head. "I just…it's too much. I need to think it through."

"I understand. I am a mage." Selden was putting on his armor, buckling it to his arms.

"No…that's not – maybe it is." Fenris stood slowly, leaning on the table to look at the other man. "I will think about it and I will come to you." Hawke looked up at him with an arched brow, then smiled when he saw that Fenris was too. "You are different. And handsome. I will come to you."

Hawke nodded and picked up his staff, saluting Fenris briefly. "I'll await it eagerly. We're meeting tomorrow at the Hanged Man to go to Sundermount, if you wish to join." Then, with a slow smirk and a wink, Hawke turned out the door way to make his way home. 

* * *

The days after his kiss with Fenris passed rather quickly for Selden Hawke. He had many things to get done before the expedition with Bartrand. It did not take him too long to come up with the fifty sovereigns, though he did have to work with some unsavory people. Fenris came with him on many of his trips, as he had promised he would, but they never discussed that night. Anders took his time in acquiring the maps they needed, though in truth it ended up working quite well for the group – there was nothing nice about travelling in the bitter cold.

Just as Spring broke the cool air over Kirkwall, the expedition was planned. It was the night before leaving and the group was in the Hanged Man, drinking their nervousness away. Carver, Anders and Aveline were three of the four people Selden had picked to come with him; Isabela had no interest in getting dirty and Varric was with his brother anyways. It was a certain tattooed and broody Elf that Hawke was trying to convince.

While the rest of the group was downstairs, sharing stories and discussing with Bartrand's men what the plan was, Hawke had summoned Fenris with him upstairs into their dwarven friend's room. Selden leaned against the window, sipping some of the tasteless ale that Corff served. Fenris was sitting in the grand chair Varric always harped about, leaning forward on his knees. Neither of them wore their armor, Fenris had on a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of tight leather pants tucked into his boots. Hawke on the other hand wore a long blue coat, tied at the waist with a red sash and breaches in boots. Both of them were armed, but not visibly.

"I fail to see why you need me to accompany you." Fenris continued after a long pause. "Aveline, Anders and your brother have experience with the darkspawn while I do not. I will merely be a burden on your shoulders."

"I doubt that, Fenris. You're a capable fighter. Aveline and Carver need someone to fight in the front with them. Varric stands back with Bianca and the two of us will not be able to handle them if any get passed Aveline and Carver. I need a third front man."

"Then take Isabela." Fenris grumbled. "Her reasoning is hardly enough to exempt her."

"I don't trust Isabela." Hawke stated plainly, turning from the window to look across the room at the Elf. "If she is not justified, what are you reasons? You never shy from a fight."

Fenris fell silent for a moment, looking down at his palms. "It is nothing."

"Do you not wish to be near me?" Selden assumed, stepping closer to the other man.

"No!" The Elf cleared his throat, glancing up at Hawke briefly. "No, that is not it. I…" Scoffing, the fighter stood suddenly and kicked at the chair. "I do not wish to be stuck underground for…for Maker knows how long. I have no desire to be surrounded by the very same vile magic that was carved into my skin." His voice darkened as his spoke, clenching his fists. "Why must you go on this damned quest, Hawke?"

Selden paused as the other spoke, noting a hint of worry in the final question. "I simply must, Fenris." The mage walked slowly over to the other man, stopping at the edge of the table so they truly only had the chair between them. "It is imperative that I get my family out of the shit hole we are in and into some sort of money. Mother and Carver cannot possibly continue to hide me from the Templars without aid. Attention has already come down upon me. The time away will fade it from memory. I _need_ to get what I can and bring it back here to support mother. And I _need_ people who I can trust at my side._"_

Fenris turned away from Hawke for a moment, leaving his hand on the back of the chair. He heard the mage move, but did not expect him to be so close so suddenly. Hawke stepped into Fenris' view, his bearded face close in proximity. His eyes were cerulean, framed with a circle of darker blue. The Elf had forgotten how he smelled; a bit like the fancy tobacco he smoked once and a while and the sandalwood and lavender his mother burned to keep the stench of lowtown out of Gamlen's home. Sighing in a deep breath of the scent, the Elf spoke. "I do not like not seeing the stars above me, Hawke."

Selden's lower voice rumbled in a small laugh and he raised a hand to trail his fingers along the Elf's jawline. The motion made them both tense; it was truly the first time they'd touched since their kiss all those weeks ago. Fenris knew he had desire for the mage, but he struggled with many things in regards to it. Hawke had respected him and kept his distance, though it was obviously difficult once and a while. They shared glances, caught one another looking at each other, danced around questions from the ever-curious Isabela.

"I will keep that in mind, Fenris. But, I need you." Hawke said softly, his breath dancing along Fenris' lips.

"Alright, Hawke." Fenris closed his eyes and sighed, swallowing passed the fear he felt crawling up his stomach. Despite his slavery and his lack of memory, he was still an Elf. The enclosed, heavy spaces of the dwarven underground was the opposite of desirable for him. He hated when he could not _feel_ the sky above him. "You're very convincing."

"I'd say so!" Isabela's voice broke between them like an explosion. Hawke had nearly brought their lips together again when the woman burst into the room. Fenris pulled away violently, actually pushing a hand against Hawke's chest and nearly catapulting away. The Elf dipped away into the enclave that Varric used for his bed.

Hawke did not move from his spot, gripping the back of the chair. "Maker's Breath, Isabela! Did no one teach you to knock?"

Isabela cackled maniacally, covering her mouth. "They did! But I didn't listen, which has ne'er let me down!" She bounced around a bit. "Ooooh! I am telling Varric!"

"Do not!" Hawke stepped away from the table after the woman who looked ready to dance back downstairs and tell the world what she'd seen. "Please, Isabela. Not yet."

"Ohhh, you're trying to get me to keep a secret, love? Have you learned nothing?" She asked, stepping closer to Hawke. "What are you going to do for me?"

Selden groaned, shaking his head. "I'll…pay your tab at the Blooming Rose for a month."

"Tch! What do you take me for?" Isabela balked, then grinned. "Even if I do the ultimate service?"

Sighing, the mage nodded. "Yes, but once I return from the expedition."

"No, I need a deposit." The woman held out her hand expectantly.

"Fine." Selden dug out three sovereigns from his pocket and plopped them down into her hand. The woman giggled and kissed his cheek before spinning back out of the room. Selden sighed and glanced over his shoulder, smiling at Fenris.

The Elf glowered in his direction and shook his head. "I am done for the night." He grabbed his coat from the table and brushed passed Hawke. The mage caught the Elf's arm, trying to speak. "_No._ Hawke, let me go. You are a poison in my mind, convincing me of things against the very core of my being. I need _air_ before you drag me into the stagnant caves. Please…just…leave me be."

Hawke, surprised by the outburst, let the Elf go. Fenris slammed the door when he left, blowing out a candle on the table. Cursing, the mage sat down in a chair and scratched at his beard. The elf was a confusing specimen. In truth, neither of them should have desire for one another. A mage and a former Tevinter slave tortured by lyrium and its use by magisters. There was no reason Selden should feel anything, especially through the bitter comments and the pure hatred from the Elf. In truth, Anders deserved his attention as he had once had. The mage was extreme in his own ways, but he at least _wanted_ Selden's attention. They'd even laid together when they'd first met, but their personalities and opinions on the intricacies of magic and its control were too different. Anders was too _soft, _Hawke desired strength, discipline. He wanted the fight, he did not want soft, except in the tender moments after a kiss or in the depth of the dawn when the sun was filtering in. Unless touched by the warmth of the fire in the late night, with skin touching, Selden wanted his partner to stand up to him in strength. He wanted to feel challenged, but also passionate.

Fenris would remain on his mind, he knew that.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Hey guys! Thanks for the follows and reads 3 This is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get it out for you all since I am not sure when I'll have more time before Christmas and such! Have a great Holiday!

* * *

4

Dawn came early for Fenris. He had returned to his home after the ordeal with Hawke and Isabela but he had not slept right away. A bottle or two of wine were put away and he had packed the things he would need on the trip all the while grumbling. Having purposefully left the window open so the sun would wake him, Fenris glared up at the sky for a few moments, allowing the warmth of the light warm his nude body. Looking down at himself, he frowned, rubbing his fingers into the creases his blankets had made in his skin. The lyrium markings crossed his chest and stomach, dipping down his hips and further to his legs. He could see the indent of them in his skin from this angle and he silently wished them away, as he did every morning.

It occurred to him that if he closed his eyes and went back to sleep, he might not have to go on the expedition. His true fear was not of Hawke or his companions but more had to do with the Deep Roads in general. Elves were not meant to be underground. The sky and fresh air, trees and nature, were what gave them live and even a brainwashed Tevinter slave knew that, former or not. Lyrium was said to be lining the walls in the Deep Roads as well and why would he want to surround himself in more of the cursed stuff?

Hawke had very good points, though. To go on such a trip without those one trusted most would be terribly difficult and Fenris did enjoy fighting. Despite the awkward surge of arousal that came to him when the mage was around, the Elf knew he needed to go. He pushed himself up out of his rickety bed and padded barefoot across the bedroom. In his time in Kirkwall he had acquire a few articles of clothing, though mostly only so he wouldn't wear the exact same thing under his armor each time. Fenris preferred clingy leather for his legs, though he often chose softer fabrics for when he wasn't preparing for battle. His usual armor would be required for this, though. If he was to be the only Elf on a mission with a bunch of dwarves and humans he needed to do his race proud. His leather armored leggings were first; he stepped into them, tugging the tight fabric up his legs. Varying types of leather were sewn together to make the armor; there were shapes like feathers crawling up from his feet. As was common for most elves; he wore no shoes. The leather hooked under the bridge of his foot and he worked his toes through with a sigh. Next, was his under shirt; a reinforced sleeveless bit of fabric that had a higher collar. Tugging the fabric down, he tucked it into his leggings and buttoned them shut.

Delicate fingers brushed along the silken tunic and he canted his head. It was the one piece he carried with him all the way from Tevinter. Danarius had given it to him, though Fenris did not feel resentment for the shirt as he did for many things. The workmanship on the shirt was magnificent. Lined with leather on the inside, it kept his lower torso safe and was cut to fit him just perfectly. The edges decorated with gold ribbon, it was once the nicest thing he'd ever touched. Now, he had a sword of equal value and many possessions around him, but this tunic was still important to him. He deftly unbuttoned the fastens, pulling the threading apart so he could shrug on the sleeveless garment.

Again, he looked outside as he closed the tunic around his neck, watching a bird peck at the roof across the mansion from him. Getting dressed for him was nearly ritualistic; especially when he went for his armor. Each part of the hardened brown leather was inspected with scrutiny in his green eyes. Looking for nicks, cuts or cracks, he oiled any spot he was worried about, rubbing thick wax into the seams. Then, he pulled the leather over his head and fastened it behind him. His metal rib-cage like breast plate was last, buckled to the leather under his arm pits. Then, he wrapped his belt around his waist, grabbed his pack and pulled his sword and sheathe over his shoulder.

Leaving the mansion was sort of bittersweet; Fenris enjoyed the place and its solitude. For the next few weeks, he would likely be sharing a tent with someone if not sleeping on the ground with no shelter. The Deep Roads did not have weather, at least. He locked the door to the mansion and made his way passed the Chantry towards where he was set to meet Hawke and the others. When he rounded the corner into the dwarven marketplace, Fenris was surprised at the amount of people milling about.

Bartrand and Varric were the furthest away, going over a map with Anders. Dwarves were everywhere. Fenris was able to see Carver and Selden discussing something off to the side with their mother and he spotted Aveline leaning against the wall. She smiled at him and waved her hand to encourage him to join her.

"So you decided to come, then?" She asked when Fenris was close enough.

"Hawke convinced me. He actually said you and Carver would need my help." Fenris mentioned, smirking a little bit at the woman's frown.

"Help with what? We're perfectly capable on our own!" Aveline grumbled. "I suppose he's right; the more the better. Dark Spawn are terribly vicious."

Fenris shrugged and remained silent as Hawke and Carver approached. Leandra remained where they'd left her, covering her mouth and crying against Gamlen who had come to support her.

"Thank you, brother." Carver was saying, his voice solemn. "I hate leaving her, but we need to resolve this together."

Hawke merely nodded, leaning against the wall next to Fenris without a word. The Elf recoiled a bit subconsciously, glancing sidelong at the mage. Selden didn't seem to notice him and simply crossed his arms over his chest. The man looked troubled, if not just extremely focused. Carver took the hint and got quiet, looking over to Bartrand. It seemed their expedition would be in progress soon.

* * *

It took two days for them to arrive at the entrance into the Deep Roads Anders had suggested. Bartrand complained the entire time, always wanting everyone to move quicker. Fenris found the dwarf to be quite infuriating and opted to stay towards the back of the company with Aveline. The Elf was fond of the guard and acting Captain. She was level headed, friendly and never too intrusive. Hawke had seemingly taken his words to heart and left the Elf alone. They hardly even looked at one another. Fenris did find himself missing the mage's commentary on things, but he tried not to let it get to him.

The caves were suffocating to Fenris; so much so that the first day they spent underground, the Elf was certain he might fall unconscious due to a lack of oxygen. The dwarves were fine, except for Varric. The surface-born seemed just as troubled about the rocks above them as Fenris was. Anders entertained them with terrifying and sometimes hilarious stories about his time with the Wardens and after several hours of that, Fenris felt better.

It was on their fourth day underground that they reached the Deep Roads themselves. Bartrand was nearly giddy with excitement and had to be convinced to stop and make camp in a cavern that had enough room for them all. He grumbled about it as much as he could, though sent scouts out anyways to see what was ahead. They returned with news that the way was blocked, which is where Hawke and his group came in. It was decided that after some sufficient rest, Fenris, Aveline, Hawke, Carver and Anders would head into the roads and see what they could to do find a way around.

Fenris found a spot away from the dwarves once camp was made, unrolling his bed mat against the wall. He removed his sword so he could keep it near him, but lay down comfortably. He was nearly about to turn off his lantern and try to sleep when Hawke approached slowly.

"Can I join you?" The mage asked timidly, glancing over his shoulder. "They're too loud."

Fenris frowned, but he accepted anyways. He wouldn't mind the company. "How can you stand it?"

"The dwarves? I don't really." Selden settled down and began opening his bedroll. He laid his staff down next to Fenris' sword. In a way, they looked nice together; both were made of black metal, though Selden had a red sash wrapped around his weapon. "I just needed some silence and space away from Varric and his stories."

"Anders is giving him a run for his coin." Fenris said, glancing in the direction of the other mage. The two did not really get along, but Fenris did enjoy his stories once and a while.

"I suppose so." Selden stretched out on his bed and laid down on his back. He tucked his hands under his head and looked up at the empty blackness of the ceiling.

"I am sorry Hawke." Fenris said softly, looking down at his hands. He was not sure what he was apologizing for. "I did not…" When he looked up at the mage, the man had one long hand extended in the air and he was drawing little shapes in the air. "Hawke?"

"Look, Fenris." Hawke said, glancing over at him with a bright glint in his blue eyes. The Elf looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing at first, just blackness. Though, after a moment, white dots began to sparkle. There were stars. Fenris smiled slowly, but then tensed. He wanted to speak, but Selden did first. "You said you did not want to live without the stars above you." The mage patted the space next to him on the ground and stretched his arm outward.

Fenris sat still for a moment, feeling a mix of nervousness and joy. The mage had managed to remember that Fenris was worried most about not having his sky. Hawke knew the Elf was nervous about magic, but took a chance anyways. He looked between the human and then to the ceiling. The stars were growing more numerous, as if Hawke had cut through the tons of rocks above them to bring him the sky.

With a deep sigh, the Elf moved finally, grabbing the corners of his bed. He had to move Hawke's hand to drag the mat closer, but he soon stretched out on his back and rested his head on the other man's shoulder. Fenris was surprised to feel that his head fit perfectly in the shell of Selden's shoulder and his arm. What Fenris could see was rather beautiful; instead of a rocky black ceiling, he had his stars.

"Which ones are your favorite?" Selden asked lowly, turning his head down into Fenris' hair. His hand was raised still and Fenris took his hand in his.

"I like the smaller groups." Fenris murmured, sliding his hand into Selden's palm. He spread his fingers into the mage's and laced them together. Once he had control of the hand, he began pointing out the small groups he spoke of. "They are under appreciated. There are thousands of constellations in mythology and religion, but they never include these small stars. Often, they're overlooked, when in truth they are the most beautiful. Do you ever wonder if we are sitting on someone else's star?"

Fenris felt Selden turn his head further into his hair and he hummed in thought. "I have never thought of that. Do you think it is true? That we are a small star in hundreds of millions of stars?"

"It is beautiful." Fenris said softly, tracing the lines between the small groups of stars. "There might be others out there, looking up at us, wondering if we are watching."

"Did you look at the stars often in Tevinter?" Hawke's voice was careful, as if he didn't wish to ask something inappropriate.

"They were my only friends," the Elf sighed. "I told them stories every night. Stories of when I would escape and take them with me."

"Did you? Take them with you, that is?" Selden squeezed Fenris' hand and lowered their grip to lay on his chest. Fenris unconsciously turned into the small embrace.

"I never thought I really could." The Elf sat up slightly, so he could look down at the mage. "Not until now." Hawke wore a soft smile; his normally controlled facial hair was growing since he had not been able to shave; he looked dirty. They had barely fought, but the underground was dirty, dusty and humid. "You frustrate me, Hawke."

Selden laughed softly and arched a black eyebrow in question. "Oh?"

"Magic is dangerous. Mages are terrible, untrustworthy people. They torture those who they deem lesser. Mages do not have hearts. They give into the temptation of demons." Fenris grumbled, clenching his teeth. "But you are none of those things. You fill me with confusion and desire. I push you away and call you names; claim you are the epitome of my life's torture…yet, you bring me the stars."

Hawke glanced away for a moment, then back to Fenris. "In all of this; surrounded in dirt and buried with lyrium and expecting an attack by dark spawn at anytime…has it occurred to you that I might need the stars too?"

"This means nothing yet, Hawke." Fenris leaned down to the man, bringing their faces together. "I do not know why, but I cannot keep myself from you. I do not wish to…lead you on. I cannot commit."

"Commit?" Selden asked with a huff. "I am not asking for that. I am not asking for anything. It is that same desire that draws me to you. In any real logical sense, I should hate you for how many terrible things you accuse mages of. But…"

Fenris quieted the mage by bending down to kiss him firmly. He gripped the other man's hand, keeping him still. Selden's lips were chapped from the dryness and the dirt around them. Fenris could taste dust, sweat and even the wine Selden had been sipping in the kiss and the Elf took a deep breath of the scent around them. Their kiss was really a series of small lip locks and breaths to one another, but it came to a sudden stop when there was an odd noise in the shadows behind them. Fenris, who was laying on Selden's chest mostly, looked up. Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but Fenris dropped a hand to his mouth silencing him.

In the group by the fire, the Elf noticed something was off. While the dwarves were drunkenly laughing and telling stories, Anders was slowly standing up. He had his staff at his side, fingers clutching the weapon so tightly that Fenris could see the white in his knuckles from here. His normally jovial face was drawn tight in a frown. His eyes scanned the camp perimeters, pivoting on one heel. Fenris remained still, though he was reaching down Hawke's side where he knew the mage kept a dagger in his belt. Anders looked towards them suddenly, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

A rush of magical energy blew passed them, taking Fenris' breath away. He twisted atop Hawke, spinning around to see the terrifying face of a dark spawn rushing out of the shadows. Its companions had been thrown out behind it, but it had managed to stay afoot. Fenris launched the dagger he had grasped, rolling deftly off of Selden towards his sword. The mage was on his own, though with the sudden rush of heat behind him and the nasty stench of burning flesh, Fenris was certain Hawke was alright. Both hands dropped to his sword and he used the blade to launch himself upright.

Just in time, too; a dark spawn came from behind a cave formation, wielding a hammer. Fenris swung his blade out around him, severing the weapon from its grasp. Then, he shoved his sword forward to stab and then swung sideways again – ripping the dark spawn's ribcage open. The camp was coming to life; Anders' and Selden's spells woke those who were sleeping and sobered up those who were not. Dwarves jumped to action, picking up weapons and tossing hot buckets of water from the fire if necessary.

Fenris fell back from his initial attack to Hawke, not wanting to leave the mage unattended near the other cave entry. The human was fairing fine on his own, but help could never be a bad thing. Between each explosion from his staff, Selden swung the bladed other side into an enemy, allowing whatever he needed to cast a spell to recharge.

The group that attacked them seemed small in number, mostly because the group dispatched of them so quickly. In his last attack, the Elf worked the energy up to get his lyrium going, ignoring the painful tingle as it crawled up his arms and burned under his chin. It hurt, but it was also so satisfying when he finally sank his fist into the chest of the darkspawn. His hand seemingly faded from that realm, likely headed to a place like the fade before he managed to solidify his limb again. It was a wonder to the magic-hating Elf how he had ever learned the skill. The darkspawn in front of him looked mildly amused at the non-solid hand in his chest and readied a fist for Fenris' face, but the Elf twisted his hand and clenched his fists. The movement made the spikes on his gauntlets to raise. He screamed in pain as his hand solidified and he ripped it backwards; a darkspawn heart in his hand. Kicking out quickly, the dying creature fell backwards and Fenris tossed aside the organ.

"Ye damned human! Yer the worst damn Warden I've ever met." Bartrand's voice was the first thing he heard when the fuzziness of his lyrium began to fade. The rush of emotion that came with the skill mostly consisted of anger and it was so blinding that Fenris often had to spend moments in silence trying to find himself again.

"I told you as soon as I felt them." Anders grumbled, kicking away the body of one of their attackers. "I am not all-knowing, I do not see them until they get close."

"Pah! Pointless skill if I've ever heard of one!" Bartrand hollered, swinging his arms around in annoyance. "Varric! Brother!"

Varric was across the room, plucking bolts out of the bodies of the dead and stuffing them back into Bianca's quiver. "Yes, sweet brother?"

"You and your worthless friends are headed in now! Get your asses moving." Bartrand gestured towards the way that was blocked. "I'm not going to wait any longer!"

"But brother, we just finished saving your sorry ass." Varric said, mock cheerfully, though Fenris felt Hawke brush passed him and he watched the mage head over to his dwarven friend. "Well, if Hawke insists!"

"I do. Aveline, could you stay back and keep watch?" Hawke said to the woman, who was cleaning off her sword. "Carver, Fenris, Anders. Let's figure this out and get out of this Blighted place."

Fenris sighed heavily, looking down at his dirtied hand. He bent to brush his hand on the body of one of the dark spawn before he made his way after the human man, saying nothing as he did. His heart was still beating heavily from the engagement and he could feel the tingling of his lyrium in the back of his mind. Truthfully, he could still see it faintly glowing. It would be good to fight the rest of the rush off.

* * *

"Bartrand, you bastard!" Varric threw himself against the stone door that had just been shut tight behind him. The dwarf ran his hands desperately along the seams, pushed, pulled – the door was not going to open. Fenris was sitting on the stairs in the thaig, head in his hands. Anders stood next to him, arms crossed over his chest, while Carver, Aveline and Hawke tried to help their smaller friend.

"We're stuck, you know." Anders muttered, shaking his head in annoyance. "We're just going to have to follow the other path."

"And what if it doesn't lead out, Warden?" Carver asked bitterly, turning to look over at the blonde.

"What choice do we have?" Anders spat back, putting his staff in its holster at his back. "I have no desire to remain here for longer than necessary. My time to die in the Deep Roads is at least two decades away."

The comment made even Fenris wince; a clear reminder from the former Grey Warden that he was watching his own fate happen around him. Hawke stopped attempting to push his blade through the door frame and he sighed heavily. "Anders is right, Varric. We need to try."

"But I want to go back this way so I can punch that nug-humping…" The dwarf began to grumble, though he gestured ahead of him. "Fine, let's get out of here."

The group gathered their things and made their way through the path, mostly under Anders' direction. The mage knew well enough what halls to avoid and when they were going to run into danger. It was on one of those attacks from a group of dark spawn that the entire trip took a sudden change. As the fighting stopped, it became immediately apparent that something was wrong with Carver. He winced as he approached the group from where he had been dragged off by the dark spawn.

"Carver?" Anders asked, looking up from a wound he was wrapping on Varric's arm. Hawke had sat down to tighten his boots and the mage looked up suddenly at the severity in Ander's voice. "Carver, what happened?"

"Nothing, Anders. I am fine." The younger Hawke was pale, though, his eyes surrounded in darke circles.

"Don't lie." Hawke stated suddenly, drawing his brother's gaze.

"I took a hit…back in that last cavern. It is nothing."

Anders turned suddenly pale, "a hit…from what? One of their weapons? Did they scratch or bite you, what was it?"

His inquiry came unanswered, though, as Carver sank to the ground, suddenly unconscious. Aveline gasped, turning around to see what had happened where she stood guard with Fenris. The two stood still, watching as Hawke stood quickly; boot unbuckled and ran to his brother's side.

"Carver?" Hawke asked, pushing hair away from the other's face. "Carver…"

"Hawke. It is too late. He has the Taint." Anders' voice was more solemn than normal. "There's nothing we can do."

"Surely there is something." Selden said sharply, touching his brother's neck where the veins were beginning to darken dramatically. "Anders, you're a Grey Warden. What can we do?"

"There is only one thing." Aveline spoke up, her face bitter.

"Two." The former Grey Warden said, sighing suddenly. "But we must hurry, Hawke."

Selden Hawke looked up at his friend, brow knit in worry. "What is it?"

"There are…I got the maps from a former Warden friend of mine." Anders stated slowly, looking around. "They're here somewhere. Becoming a Warden would stop the spread."

"Hawke…" Carver's voice cracked and he shook his head feverishly. "I would never see mother again."

"Better that than having her know you are dead, Carver." Selden said firmly, then nodded to Anders.

"It is as much of a death sentence as any, Hawke." Anders warned. "In truth, it is a promise of death eventually."

"We're all going to do that, Anders." Hawke said sternly, then helped his brother to his feet.

The going was slow and painful, but after a few curves in the caverns, they came upon a small group of dark spawn. The group dispatched of them quicker than normal. At the end of the fighting, Anders turned to a dark turn in the cave and sighed heavily, as if something were about to happen that he did not want.

A Grey Warden showed up around the corner, flanked by a couple other fighters. His armor was impressive; blue and silver and he called himself Stroud. It took some convincing, but he did eventually agree to take Carver under his wing. The group gave the brothers a moment to say goodbye, but almost as soon as it happened, Carver was gone. Hawke stood still for a moment, looking at the group before he kicked a rock in annoyance. "Let us be quit of this place." The group could only nod in agreement and they turned away from where they had parted with Carver and continued their search for freedom. It would take them a week or two, at least and none of them wished to spend any more time in the cursed Deep Roads.


	5. Chapter 5

Author Notes: Heeeeey there guys. Sorry! I am finally back in the game! Holiday season is cray for me and I had to get settled again after a move! Here is the 5th installment of Stay, my Dragon Age fanfic. There is smutty smut in this, but you will have to go to my 18+ tumblr page to continue reading it as fanfictionDOTnet does not like the smutty. For those of you who just like fluff though, there's loads of that! Also, welcome new followers 3 Happy New Year! And for those of you who go on to my tumblr, feel free to follow me! I am also making a Fenris cosplay and update it there! Enjoy!

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5

The group grew distant in the years after the Expedition. The Hawke family had work to do to restore the Amell family mansion to its former glory and they only numbered two. Aveline became consumed with a new role as Guard Captain, spending most of her time regaining the trust of the people of Kirkwall by washing the corruption away from the ground up. Without Hawke and Aveline to insist the group stay together, it fell apart. Varric and Anders continued their weekly gambling nights, Merrill was often seen with them, though she kept to herself once she recovered an artifact of her people and needed to work on it.

Fenris became a recluse after a year. There were whispers in the taverns of slavers in Kirkwall in surprising numbers. Tevinter was known for its blatant slave trade and the Elf could pinpoint one of his mast…former master's slavers by just listening to their description. He hid most of his time in his mansion, making new armor or watching obsessively out the window. It was, though, on one of his rare nights out to play cards that he heard what he had always expected.

It was three years after the expedition, but Fenris was still nervous. He wore a long cloak with a deep cowl even in the summer, finding that he felt more secure under cover. It was almost fall, luckily, and he was not as overheated as usual. Rounding a corner into Lowtown, he froze when he suddenly heard an accent that was all too familiar.

"Yes, an Elf." The voice was rough, unfamiliar in its tone, but the pronunciation of everything grinded at Fenris' nerves.

"If yer lookin' fer an Elf, mister, ye should check the Alienage!" The voice of a small child that he couldn't see came around the man croaked nervously. "Tha'ss where they all be."

"No, boy. This Elf is different. White tattoos, white hair. He would not go to the Alienage." The man crouched, showing a palm full of silvers. "I know little ones like yourself see a lot…"

The boy's eyes lit up and he nodded. "_Oh!_ I know an Elf like _tha'_. Sometimes, 'e goes to The Hanged Man! He wears spikes on 'is shoulders."

Fenris cursed under his breath, not even realizing that he had thrown himself back against the wall. He had been too obvious! Too careless! He had allowed his image to be too common in the city. They would certainly find him now. It was time to run, again.

"Could you deliver a message to his friends?" The man was saying, the child nodded. "Tell them to tell him that we are waiting for him outside the city and that we will leave everyone alone." Grinding his teeth in annoyance, Fenris punched the wall behind him lightly and turned suddenly…only to find himself walking _right_ into someone.

Hawke's chest was softer than Fenris really remembered; though it could have been for the lack of armor. The tall human reached up with big hands, cupping Fenris' shoulders to stop his momentum. Sweet sandalwood, lavender and a bit of tobacco took over Fenris' senses and he looked up into the cleanly-shaven face of Selden. It had been weeks since they'd seen one another. Hawke's expression changed from surprised to something close to content and he reached up to pull Fenris' cowl down.

"Don't." Fenris growled, reaching up to grab the man's wrist roughly.

"What is it?" Hawke asked with a wince, trying to twist his hand free, but Fenris did not allow it. Mostly, he forgot he was even holding the man as he looked around the corner again.

"They've come for me." His low voice rumbled in his chest. His eyes darted around the Lowtown Market for the man.

"Who? Can you let me go?"

"They want to meet me outside the city." Fenris did not explain further, finally releasing Hawke to walk back towards Hightown.

"Who? Where?"

Fenris kept walking, ignoring the man whose boot falls fell too loudly in step behind him. "If they wish to threaten my friends, then I shall meet them before word can even travel."

"We're your friends?" For some reason, Hawke's question made Fenris stop and turn. The movement was so sudden that Hawke had to trip on himself to avoid crashing into the Elf. He raised his hands at the glare he received for the question. "Don't glare at me, you've been all but a ghost this last year."

"I play cards every week."

"No. I play cards once a week. You play maybe once every three."

Fenris narrowed his eyes. "No, at least every two."

"I have not seen you in at least eight." Hawke was starting to smirk.

"No, I'm there once a month."

"Surely not. It was warm the last time you came." Hawke assured confidently, crossing his arms. Fenris noticed the fine black coat he wore over a silk vest and white shirt. His clothing had certainly improved. "That's not what this is about though. Who has come for you and where are they waiting?"

"Tevinter Slavers, sent by Danarius no doubt." Fenris spat the name. "They bribed a street urchin to tell everyone at the Hanged Man they'd be waiting for me outside Kirkwall. If I went to them, they'd spare you all."

Hawke chuckled throatily. "Have they not done their research? We're hardly the type to need sparing."

Fenris wondered when the other man became so amused with everything. Perhaps, he'd always been that way and he'd never shown it before. The Elf sighed and shook his head, "That means nothing. I must stop them. This is what I have been waiting for."

Hawke's boot falls followed him and the mage's voice was not far behind him. "You're not going alone into this, Fenris. Let us go to The Hanged Man, get everyone together and then we can take them down."

"This is not your fight." Fenris growled, turning around and purposefully stalking closer to the mage. "I have been waiting for this moment for…for years, Hawke. Let me have it."

"I can do that, Fenris. But as your _friend_, I am not letting you go alone. There are dozens of Slaver hide outs, it will be dangerous." Hawke insisted, glancing around. "Let me get Aveline, at least. We will help you."

"What will Aveline do, Hawke? Call in her guards, bring the whole city with her?"

"You know she would not, Fenris. She dislikes the slavers as much as anyone and she would not compromise you in such a way. If I get her and maybe Isabela we could ensure we do not run into any nasty traps and will have the ability to keep you from getting captured." Selden stepped closer to Fenris, sighing. "Let us help you."

The Elf looked up at the much taller man, furrowing his brow in thought. When had he allowed himself the weakness of friends? How had they snuck under his carefully guarded personality and become so important to him? No wonder Danarius wanted to use them against him. He'd put them in danger. The truth was, though, that Fenris did not want to do this without them. Their presence would keep him calm and he finally felt as if he actually might be able to escape the slavers once and for all. Looking up into Hawke's eyes, the Elf nodded and spoke up. "Alright Hawke. Go get Aveline and Isabela. We will meet at your…estate in one hour. Come ready for a fight."

Hawke smiled brightly and nodded, leaning in rather suddenly to kiss Fenris' cheek. The move made both Fenris and the mage wince, almost as if the human had not realized he was doing that. With that blush that always graced his cheeks when he made a move like that, Hawke saluted Fenris and turned towards Lowtown. Fenris stood for a moment, watching him walk away with a scowl.

That mage was going to be the death of him.

* * *

"_Fenris_!" Hawke's voice rent through the fury in his mind and the Elf stopped moving. His vision cleared just briefly and he saw the tearful face of Hadriana in front of him. His sword was raised, ready to remove her head clean from her shoulders. How had he gotten so close to her? She had a desperately wild smile on her face, that look he knew she carried when she thought she owned him. The mage had something for him, something that she thought would save her.

"Stop! You do not want me dead!" Hadriana said, desperately.

"There is only one person I want dead more…" Fenris growled, leaving his sword at ready.

"I have information, Elf. And I will trade in return for my life." She hissed, her voice deep and throaty with a coming cackle.

"Ha!" Fenris scoffed, shaking his head. "The location of Danarius? What good will that do me? I would rather he lose his pet pupil."

"You have a sister and she is alive." Hadriana gasped, holding a spot on her side where one of Hawke's spells had hit her. Fenris felt his stomach drop and he lowered his sword. "You wish to reclaim your life?" Hadriana continued, standing up. "Let me go and I will tell you where she is."

"How do we even know if you're telling the truth?" Hawke asked.

"And what if she _is_ telling the truth, Fenris?" Aveline asked aloud, looking at the two of them for a moment before returning her gaze to the rest of the room. She was a good guardswoman.

"You don't." Hadriana cackled. "But I know you, Fenris. And I know what he's searching for. If he wants me to betray Danarius, he will have to pay for it." Fenris felt anger building up in him and he clenched the handle of his sword even tighter.

"Fenris…this is your call." Hawke encouraged him, and the Elf looked over at the mage for a moment. Letting out a long sigh, Fenris approached Hadriana slowly.

"So I have your word? You will let me go?" Hadriana asked, shrinking back against the wall. Fenris reached out to her, curling his gauntleted hand around her face. The sharp tips of his fingers punctured her skin and she hissed in pain.

"Yes, you have my word." He hissed, looking her directly in the eye as he said it, releasing her face.

"She is a court servant in Tevinter." Hadriana spoke quickly. "Her name is Varania. She is serving a magister by the name of Ahriman."

"A servant, not a slave?" Fenris hissed, disbelieving.

"She's not a slave." Hadriana confirmed, a bit of hope coming to her eyes.

The elf turned away from her, causing Hawke to raise his staff again, reigniting the spell he had cast to knock the woman's own magic into nothingness. Slamming his fist into a wall, he turned to look at the woman who had tortured him so many times. She had starved him, stopped him from sleeping for days, simply out of the pure pleasure of it. If he had a sister…He erased that thought from his mind. If he looked as if he would spare her, Hadriana would trust him, perhaps. Trust him to keep her alive. The Elf's green eyes went to Hawke, meeting this cerulean gaze. There was something shared in the expression, an agreement. Hawke's lips pursed into a small frown, one that seemed disapproving, but he nodded anyways. He understood what Fenris had to do.

Turning back to the groveling woman, Fenris nodded to Hadriana. Glancing over to Hawke and Aveline where they stood, Fenris considered his next step. He was certain Aveline would try to stop him, but if he measured correctly, she would have to pass Hawke and the mage would hopefully intercept the guardswoman. Varric stood across the room by the door, waiting for any more slavers. He approached Hadriana slowly, feeling the rush of his lyrium again. She must have noticed the subtle glowing, because she began to shake her head. "I believe you."

Fenris moved quickly, his arm reaching out for the woman's chest and burrowing deeply inside of it. He grasped for her heart, twisting, tearing at the tendons and muscle, breaking bone. Then, with a violent tug, he pulled backwards with a rush of blue light", killing the woman instantly. She slumped to the ground, blood seeping vigorously from the new hole in her chest.

"Fenris!" Aveline cried out, turning around to march his direction. "You gave your word!"

A rush of anger came over the Elf and he shook his hand roughly to free himself of some blood. "We are done here!" He hissed at Aveline, brushing passed Hawke. The mage reached out, grabbing his shoulder.

"Fenris…" Hawke's voice was gentle, but the Elf reacted violently to it, pushing the man away.

"I do not want to talk about it!" His voice echoed in the empty hall. "This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this 'sister.'" Fenris paused, turning away from both Aveline and Hawke, especially once he saw Varric approaching. "Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicde! Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows…"

"Fenris…" Hawke tried again, but the Elf raised a bloody hand to silence him.

"All that matters is that I finally got to crush this…_bitch's_ heart. May she rot and all the other _mages_ with her." Fenris pushed passed Hawke, who had an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Maybe…we should leave." Varric said, reaching out to try and touch Fenris' side.

"Do not try to comfort me!" Fenris glowered at the dwarf, who brought both hands up in a helpless sign of defense. "Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?"

The three of his friends stood silent for a moment and Fenris actually turned to look at them all for a moment. Varric was actually smirking, Aveline looked saddened and Hawke had his arms crossed over his chest and was eyeing him a bit oddly.

"I need to go….get out of his filthy, cursed place." Fenris turned on the three of them and walked away, heading out down the hallway and as far away from Hadriana's lifeless body as he could get.

* * *

The elf was waiting for Hawke when he got home. It had taken a bit of convincing to get Bodahn and Sandal to go to bed without insisting on waiting up for Hawke as well and the Elf that the Mage had hired was intent on showing Fenris how good she was at cooking for at least an hour. Upon leaving the place he'd killed Hadriana, Fenris has returned to his home and stripped himself naked. Not even bothering to warm his bath water, he'd soaked in the ice cold for as long as he could stand it, only coming up once and a while to breathe. The woman's blood took an unusual amount of work to get off of his hands and gauntlet.

After sitting nude in his bedroom, he'd struggled with what he wanted to do. Between wanting to tear his skin open along the lines of his lyrium and going to Hawke's estate, he could not decide. He downed a bottle of wine, smashed the bottle against the wall and eventually dressed himself. Not bothering with his armor, he tugged on brown leggings that hooked around his feet, a satin, long sleeved tunic and his cloak, he opted to go with the more self-preserving option.

Hawke must have gone to The Hanged Man after returning to Kirkwall because it was long after midnight before the door creaked open and the mage appeared. He still wore most of his armor, though he had taken off his gauntlets and shoulder guards and packed them in his bag. He did not notice Fenris at first and the Elf remained perched silently in a chair in the foyer, watching. Hawke pulled his cloak from his shoulders first, hanging the fabric on the coat hanger. Fenris' own cloak was draped over his chair. Then, he went to unbuckling his chest plate armor, letting the metal set on the bench next to the door. Selden loosened the collar of his shirt with his hands and untucked the fabric from his tight breeches. Black, polished boots came up to the mages knees and he bent over to begin unbuckling them.

What had driven Fenris to come to Hawke's estate that night was unclear, but as he studied the human mage as he took off his outerwear, the Elf could only think of a sudden surge of desire. Be it the power of the overwhelming emotions of anger, hurt and fear still surging through him from earlier in the day or the sight of the handsome man in front of him, Fenris decided that that night was the night they would resolve the tension between them. Their kisses and touches and fevered gazes throughout the years had never gone away and time had not softened the effect that the mage had on the Elf. Against whatever better judgment he had, if there was any, Fenris stood slowly and approached the mage as he was hanging up his staff.

Fenris reached up for the mage, curling his fingers into the thicker muscle of the man's shoulder. Hawke was not an overly muscular man, not like his brother, but he certainly was built differently than the lithe elf. The two of them both froze for a moment; Selden had turned his head to see who had touched him, but stopped when he saw the white lyrium etched into the fingers there. He knew it was Fenris. In the dim light from the fire in the other room, the former Tevinter slave studied the curve of Selden's back and the way his clingy shirt curved into the shape of his spine.

Selden moved first, reaching up to grab Fenris' wrist roughly. He tugged on the Elf suddenly, pulling him and then _pushing_ him towards the closest flat-space he could find; the door. Fenris's bottle of wine had delayed his response time and he suddenly found himself with his back pressed into the wood of the door and one arm pinned painfully above his head. Hawke loomed over him, the warmth of his body near enough for Fenris to feel, but they were not touching except for their hands. Hawke peered down at him, his eyes narrowed as he studied the face of the Elf he had trapped against his door. Fenris felt exposed under the stare, his eyes widening a bit in worry. Had he truly angered the mage earlier?

If he had, Fenris discovered he would have to wait to find out. Hawke leaned in suddenly, using his other hand to grasp the Elf's chin. Their lips met roughly, though the kiss softened between them when Fenris relaxed. Allowing his eyes to close, the elf arched his back and used his free arm to wrap around Hawke and draw him in closer. Obliging, the mage used his superior height to press Fenris tighter against the door. The hand left the Elf's face and dropped to grab one of his hips, pushing roughly back.

The motion caused Fenris to gasp, nipping down dangerously on the mage's bottom lip. He would not be completely immobile. With his free hand, Fenris pushed against Hawke's hips this time, using his sharper-than-normal fingernails to cause a bit of pain. Hissing, Hawke was distracted enough to loosen his grip on Fenris' hand. Using his new-found freedom to his advantage, the practiced fighter placed both hands on the mage's shoulder, twisting roughly to flip their positions. He also kicked lightly at one of Hawke's legs, making the man lose his balance so that he _had_ to move with Fenris to stay upright.

Growling in annoyance, Selden suddenly found himself shoved roughly against the door by his shorter lover. Fenris grinned up at him, reaching up to try and draw the man in for another kiss, but Selden pushed him away. Catching his balance a few steps back, Fenris glared at Selden for a moment, before the man pursued him. His eyes widened and he began to back up, passing through the threshold of the foyer to the main room. Continuing to retreat until the back of his thighs ran into the chair he had been occupying by the fire, he waited for the mage.

Selden came at him quickly, reaching up to cup his face in both of his large and rather rough hands to guide Fenris into a kiss. The mage's mouth tasted like the spiced whisky he drank at The Hanged Man, something the bartender had special ordered for him. Fenris raised his hands and curled them into the hair at the base of Hawke's neck. He felt himself pushed further onto the chair, though only enough that he was practically sitting on the arm of it.

In one quick movement, Fenris felt himself suddenly lifted off the ground. Hawke's hands had dropped to under his thighs, lifting him. To keep himself from falling, the Elf wrapped his arms around the mage's shoulders and curled his legs around his hips. Gasping a bit in surprise at the movement, he pulled back to look down at his would-be lover. Hawke wore a confident smirk and he stepped backwards and then towards the stairs, carrying Fenris rather effortlessly. Clinging to the mage, Fenris glanced over his shoulder, feeling a surge of nervousness. Hawke moved quickly, taking the stairs carefully so he did not drop the Elf and kicked the door to his bedroom open. When he was close enough, he practically tossed Fenris back onto the mattress, turning to shut the door once more.

Bouncing, the Elf caught himself and scooted backwards into a seated position, raising a hand to stop the pursuing mage. "Hawke." The way Hawke froze in place, like a hunting cat caught in the act, was rather amusing and Fenris even smiled. "I am sorry."

Sighing, Hawke relaxed, crawling further onto the bed. "Just…it's fine."

"No, it is not. I should not have walked away." Fenris said, chewing on his lip. Hawke came closer, kneeling on the mattress in front of the Elf.

"You did what you needed to." The mage said, reaching up to push some hair out of the Elf's face. "Now, shut up." He dove back in for another kiss.

The kiss was welcomed and Fenris allowed himself to be pressed back into the plush pillows on the man's bed. His hands found Hawke's hair and he relaxed under the man's hands on his shoulder and neck. Fenris felt himself relaxed more, the weight of Hawke's body pushing him flat into the mattress.

Their chests touched, drawing gasps out of the two of them at the same time. The fervor of their kissing picked up and Fenris felt himself tugging Hawke down into him. The mage's hand fumbled with the latches of his tunic, trying to open the satin fabric. When he did, Selden pulled back suddenly, looking down at the elf, his eyes searching. Self-conscious, Fenris looked down, reaching to try and close the tunic.

"What is it?"

"I did not know there was more of them…" Hawke murmured, trailing his fingers along one of the lyrium lines that curled over his ribcage. Fenris hissed and recoiled, grabbing Selden's hand tightly. "…Do they hurt?"

Pausing, Fenris thought about the question, narrowing his eyes. "I…not necessarily." He let out a long breath. "They're…sensitive. I feel exposed when they're touched, like there is fingers…" Fenris' voice trailed off though as Hawke dipped down, dragging the soft pad of his bottom lip along the marking. His movement was so slow, so careful, and Fenris felt a different sensation come over him. The gentleness of the touch and the erotic aspect of Hawke's lips doing the touching took over the usual discomfort. Fenris' eyes fluttered shut and he practically melted back into the pillows.

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To continue reading, please go to eliotrose DOT tumblr DOT com /post/73692911861/stay-chapter-5 Thanks! :D


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